The Grey Wind
by LuminaCarina
Summary: The year is 1999, the second millennia is ending, and while the world is counting down the seconds 'til the end, a plethora of people cross paths and get tangled in each other's plots and plans made for nefarious purposes. Non-magic AU


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter

**Summary:** The year is 1999, the second millennia is ending, and while the world is counting down the seconds 'til the end, a plethora of people cross paths and get tangled in each other's plots and plans made for nefarious purposes. Non-magic AU

**Warnings:** AU, Graphic and/or Implied Violence, Character Death, Strong Language, Sexual/Intimate Situations, Possible and Probable OOC-ness, Criminal Acts, Gender-bending (fem!Harry)

**Rating:** M (mature)

**Words:** 22k

**Before we begin, know that the characters aren't always trustworthy, meaning they can and will lie at times. They don't know the whole truth, and may be unintentionally lying. Also know that things may not be as they are presented, and that no one is completely good or completely bad.**

#

**November 2****nd ****1998, London**

The tall man in black swung the bat once more, relishing in the hoarse crying coming from the bloody form sprawled on the floor in front of him.

''Please,'' the bloodied person whimpered, ''Please, let me go… Please, I don't know anything…''

He merely hit the body again, this time succeeding in finally killing it.

''You really went overboard with him, you know.'' Came from behind him, but he ignored it in favour of wiping his weapon clean of blood.

''All this blood… Is that piss?''

He carded his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily.

''Leader won't be happy you killed him. We needed his info.'' The voice continued.

At last, he reacted. ''Leader can kiss my lily white arse. What fucking business of mine is what Leader wants?''

''He's your boss.'' Came the hissed out response. ''He owns you.''

''Yeah. He owns me like a fucking animal.'' He agreed amicably, ''I'm his bloody pet, and all I'm missing is a collar and a leash. I might be getting one tomorrow for all I know. But for now, I'm worth more as a rabid dog that attacks everyone. And currently, I have no orders from the great Leader, and I had this buggering maggot to play with. But hey. He's just a lump of meat now, but that doesn't mean the fun ends. You want to stay and watch?''

''You're foul.''

He was pleased to note that his unwanted visitor sounded disgusted, and he made sure the wanker saw him clearly as he smiled fondly down at the corpse. When his visitor spoke up again, he sounded like he wanted to be gone as soon as possible.

''As it is, Leader does have orders for you. Hunt him down.''

A paper ball hit him in the back of his head and footsteps echoed as the pretentious bastard left his cellar.

''Fucking peacock offspring of a diseased whore.'' He sneered.

He picked up the paper missile and straightened it out. A brunet man smiled at him warmly.

''Little Remy, huh? What did you do to piss Leader off, huh puppy? I thought I told you to stay away from all of this.''

#

**December 15****th ****1999, Liverpool**

''Are you sure about this? We don't have to – Well, I mean – Oh, blast it…''

He smiled when he saw his companion tug on her hair anxiously, obviously uncomfortable with the plans he was making.

''Don't worry darling, we can pull it off.'' He winked at her. ''Don't you trust me?''

She blushed and stuttered, but he waved her away.

''You shouldn't fret; with your brains and my charms, we'll be having no trouble. None at all! And just think of the rewards!''

His friend squawked when he suddenly swept her up in her arms and spun her around. She stumbled some more when he forced her into some enthusiastic form of a waltz, but still she smiled at his happiness.

''We can be anything at all, Harry! Anything at all, you hear me? We could be merchants, or office workers, or potato farmers! We could even be actors in Spanish soap-operas! You and me, sweetheart, we'll be everything before we die! At least twice!''

Harry laughed with him, her earlier bad mood forgotten in face of the pure joy that was being next to her partner. He could get rid of her fears with nothing more than being himself.

''Do you think we can be free?'' She already knew the answer to that, but still she asked.

He looked at her seriously. Sometimes it was easy to forget how small she was, but he always remembered it when she asked that question of him.

''Of course we can!'' he boomed. ''We already are! We escaped, dear, never forget that! And now, we can even be jesters if we want to!''

She bit her lip. ''Why would we want to be jesters?''

''For entertainment, cutie! No one gets better entertainment that the jester, and – Harry! The jester has to have a king to amuse him, doesn't he? And we don't have a king. So, does that mean we can't have fun?''

Harry blinked. ''But we aren't really jesters. So we can have fun even without a king.''

He beamed. ''Exactly, Harry!''

''Hey, Ced?''

''Hmmm?''

She pulled out a rumpled letter from her pocket and waved it in front of his face. ''Can we go visit the Terrible Two soon?''

He thought it over for a moment. They hadn't seen their friends for quite some time, and Harry did look rather worried about them…

''Of course! And we can show them all our pictures!''

#

**December 17****th ****1999, London**

''There are whispers of a rebellion, sir. Of overthrowing the government. Surely you have heard –''

''Quiet, you fool. Of course I've heard of it.''

''Then you've also heard about the ship, sir, the Grey Wind. Your wife will be there, sir. And your daughter-in-law.''

He clenched his fists. It wouldn't do to strangle his idiot secretary, even if doing in the bumbling moron would be doing a favour to the world as a whole.

''My wife can take care of herself, and so can Astoria.''

''Sir…?''

''We continue according to the plan. If you bring this up again, I don't think I have to outline what will happen to you.''

#

**December 20****th ****1999, Dover**

''Well, well, well, look at that.''

He turned. ''Look at what?''

His brother gave him a blank look.

''Our ride, of course. Isn't she a beauty? All sleek lines and curves and gleaming in the sun…''

He tried not to smirk. ''You're starting to sound like it's your lover.''

His twin huffed. ''When have we ever sailed on a ship as beautiful as that one? In fact, when have we ever sailed on any ship? I'm allowed to fall in love with her, just a little bit.''

''Come on, Fred, we'll see many more ships after that one.''

Fred frowned at him. ''Yes, but this one's special. It's our first ship. You shouldn't forget why we got into this business in the first place. We did it exactly to see things like this ship, and to enjoy them. Everything else was a second thought at best.''

He sighed, chastised and slightly ashamed. ''I know, and I didn't forget. I'm just worried. This is our biggest job yet.''

''And our last one. Have to go out with a bang and all that. But that's just another reason to savour the sights. Revel in it, brother mine! Love it! Embrace it! We're screwing with everyone on that ship, George, feel the joy and the chaos!''

A man in a grey cloak gave them a dark look for all the noise they were making. Fred ignored his mumbled cursing and continued making wild gestures with his arms.

George laughed. ''Right, right. Let's get closer to it. Stake out the grounds for when it sets sail later in the evening.''

''Now you're talking!''

#

**December 20****th ****1999, Dover**

''I do.''

''I do.''

There were no cheers, only the muted clapping of the two men Bill found to be their witnesses. Still, it was the happiest moment of her life.

''I promised you, didn't I?'' Bill murmured in the crook of her neck. ''A new life, for the both of us. No baggage, no remnants of the past or any reminders. Just you, just me, just our future.''

''And my sister?''

''She'll be fine. A proper English rose if I've ever seen one.''

Fleur laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. A new life sounded… wondrous. Impossible. Unreal. And a bit… empty. What was she supposed to do? She couldn't dance anymore. She had no finished formal education. And –

''Hey.'' Bill lifted up her chin. ''Look at me. We'll be fine. We'll live a boring, normal life as boring, normal people. You shouldn't fret. You'll be fine.''

Fleur closed her eyes. She still had William. She'll be fine.

#

**December 21****st ****1999, the Grey Wind**

She pulled on her coat nervously, wincing in the cold air of the eve. It was a stupid thing to go out this late at night, she knew, but excitement wouldn't let her sleep. She would see him soon, and even if he sent her away again, at least she would know he was well and truly happy.

''Meow?''

She lifted up her tomcat and held him close. He shivered a bit, and gave her an accusing glare. She smiled warmly. It always amused her how he could be more expressive than most humans. She held him closer and tried to comfort him.

''No Crookshanks, we're not staying here long. It's too blooming cold.''

No use. Her cat merely gave her an unimpressed look, and so she turned to go back inside. What fool want ed to risk falling off the deck of a ship anyway? Oh right, she did, that's who. Really, she thought to herself, she was starting to seem a tad suicidal, when she should the happiest she had ever been. She was visiting her dearest friend soon, after all.

But just as she reached for the doorknob, the door swung open and she almost got mowed over by a tall, male figure.

''Hey, watch where you're going!'' she yelled after him when he didn't even slow down, let alone apologise.

All she could catch from the running figure before he turned the corner was the glinting of his red hair under the artificial lighting.

#

**December 21****st ****1999, the Grey Wind**

There was something wildly satisfying about being better than others. This was what made one feel self-confident, and Fred wasn't above relishing in outdoing others. Especially if those others had insulted George.

It shouldn't have surprised George that Fred managed to get into a fight on the first day of the journey, but it did. Mostly because his brother had been cheerfully talking with that person and then, out of the blue, swung a fist at the man's face.

''What did you say, bastard?'' Fred was roaring. ''I dare you to say it again!''

''I didn't –''

But Fred didn't let the man finish. ''You lily-livered, soft-footed, brainless excuse for a human!'' he threw himself at the man like an animal. ''I dare you to – Forge, let me go! Let me go!''

George held Fred by the waist and refused to let go. ''Can't you settle this like a normal person?'' he complained.

Fred stilled and fixed his narrowed gaze at the shocked man. ''We could have a duel.'' He offered. ''A duel for my fair brother's honour! To regain – ow, Forge, what the Hell?!''

George flicked his ear again. ''I don't need you to avenge my honour. I need you to stop making a scene.''

Fred, of course, didn't even hear his plea. He was far too focused on the retreating man to hear it. ''Yes,'' he purred, ''Run away, little animal, run away – ow, what was that for?''

George rolled his eyes. ''For quoting cartoons.''

Fred sulked. ''They're not cartoons, they're anime!''

''Yeah, yeah, all right.''

And then he had to run because Fred was chasing after him to avenge his cartoons. He was so busy running he didn't even notice the woman before he ran into her. He didn't have time to apologise though. He would do it some other time. Now he had to escape Fred.

#

**December 21****st ****1999, the Grey Wind**

''Oh this is so perfect! Look at it. Silk sheets, crystal chandeliers, orchids… This is like the Titanic.''

''Let's hope it's not quite like the Titanic. But I'm glad you like it. You deserve only the best, especially for our honeymoon.''

His newly wedded wife melted into his embrace, a sultry smile spreading on her face.

''Well, mister Weasley, you sure do have a silver tongue. Shall I reward you for it?''

''Fleur…'' he groaned at the slight pressure of her fingers on his shoulders.

''Hmmm, don't you want to be rewarded?''

Fleur's breath was hot at his neck, and he was deeply sorry he had to interrupt this. But she would never forgive him if they spent the first night of their honeymoon in bed instead of dancing and dining.

''There's dinner served in the restaurant, and a bar. I hear they have a dance floor…'' he tempted.

Fleur sighed. She untangled herself from him and offered him a soft, incredibly fond smile. ''Well then, who are we to say no to the wonders waiting on us in the bar? And I get to dance the night away…''

She was radiant as they walked to where the server had instructed them to go. He had never seen anyone more beautiful than her in his life, and he had been incredulous when she chose him over, well, everyone else. And when she agreed to marry him, he had almost collapsed because, even after all the years they had spent together, it had still been an unreachable dream for him to have her as his wife.

''Is this it? Bill?''

He startled out of his reverie. How had he missed going inside? But he was quickly overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the restaurant. It was shiny and in hues of gold, chandeliers and wine bottles and jewellery glittering under the candlelight. The dance floor was empty, but he doubted it would stay that way with how hungrily Fleur's eyes were straying to it.

''I'm not that hungry.'' She explained when she took him to the bar and not one of the tables.

The bartender brought them their drinks, but Bill's eyes were glued to a couple sitting near them. A man and a woman, both younger than him and Fleur by at least half a decade, were drinking from champagne glasses and laughing.

''Bill?'' Fleur inquired, and then followed his gaze. ''Oh. Do you know them?''

''No, but let's talk with them. They seem interesting.''

And they did. The man was tall and auburn haired, in a deep blue suit and with a fedora on his head, while his black haired companion wore a little white dress with black sequins. They looked like a scene from some old noir film.

''Hello.'' He greeted. ''I'm Bill Weasley, this is my wife Fleur. Excuse us for intruding, but you looked interesting.''

The woman immediately protested. ''Oh, no, you're not intruding, not at all!''

''I'm Cedric, and this vision next to me is Harry.'' Introduced them the man.

''Ah, that is such a stunning dress, Mrs Fleur, where did you get it? Ced stole me this one, but we don't really match if I'm not wearing something blue!''

''But Harry! My fedora is grey, and grey is a mix of black and white, which are the colours of your dress! So if I wear grey, it's the same as wearing black and white, and that means we do match!''

''Oh…'' Fleur seemed a bit overwhelmed. ''It's actually my wedding dress. We boarded this ship as soon as our wedding was over and done with.''

Harry smiled excitedly, and turned her attention to him.

''Oooh, you must be so happy! What do you do, Mr Bill? Ced and I, we've done a lot of things, but we still have much to try. If we haven't tried your job yet, we could give it a try soon.''

''I'm an archaeologist. I work mostly with the pyramids and mummies, but it's much more boring than it sounds.'' Bill grinned roguishly. ''It can still be dangerous, though.''

Harry stared at him wide-eyed. ''Oooh! Is that how you got your scars?''

''No, not really.''

An uncomfortable silence ensued, but thankfully, Cedric changed the topic.

''Have you seen the orchestra yet? They wear all black, you see, and there are a lot of them! It'll be quite a show when they get the stage!''

Harry clapped her hands exuberantly. ''Oh, Ced, what do you think they'll play? Maybe we could join in with them!''

The two were a riot. Fleur loved them. Bill was pretty sure he loved them, too. It was hard not to like them.

''Ah!''

A woman stumbled over the hem of Fleur's dress out of nowhere, tripping and falling on her knees.

Bill helped her up, of course, and Cedric had also jumped to his feet to aid the woman. She was a beautiful girl, around Harry's age, brown haired and blue eyed.

''Forgive us, Astoria should have paid attention to where she was walking.''

It was the middle-aged blonde with a regal bearing that spoke up. She was just as sleek and polished as Astoria, and Bill recognized her easily.

''Don't worry,'' he said, ''Fleur's dress was what tripped her up. I'm Bill Weasley, this here is my wife, Fleur, and these are Cedric and Harry. Join us, please. It's the least we can do.''

The woman smiled. ''Thank you for the invitation. I am Narcissa Malfoy, Astoria is my future daughter-in-law.''

''You're the Minister's wife then, aren't you Mrs Narcissa?'' Harry asked curiously.

Narcissa nodded and accepted a glass of champagne from the bartender.

''Yes, Mr Malfoy is the Minister.'' Astoria answered for her. ''We're actually going to meet him. He and my fiancé, Draco, are waiting for us in London.''

''They're not the only ones waiting for us.'' Narcissa whispered darkly.

''Cissa!'' Astoria admonished. ''Let's not worry our companions.''

Narcissa smiled. ''Of course. Forgive me for saying such things.''

''Oh of course!'' Cedric boomed. ''Have you seen the orchestra yet? They wear all black, and I say, I can't wait for them to get the stage! Harry and I here, we played a pair of flutes in an orchestra once, but it was a small one, and we left it not long after joining, but I can say that it was great while it lasted.''

''Oh yes!'' Fleur joined in, ''I love music! It's perfect for dancing, especially orchestra music! I was a dancer for a while, you see, but I broke my ankle and had to give up dancing professionally. But I never quite got over my love of it, I'm afraid.''

Bill watched it all with a smile, but he couldn't help but wonder – What did Mrs Malfoy mean with her comment? And Harry, when she mentioned Cedric stealing a dress for her?

#

**Interlude: Hermione **

There were many people who didn't like Hermione. There were those who disliked her for her middle-class family, those who envied her brilliance, those who hated her pushy and bossy nature. All these people agreed on one thing though: she was loyal.

That was what she always strived to be. While she may define herself as intelligent, she did her best to be loyal.

But the world had a funny way of playing with her. All the people she was loyal to ended up either leaving her or dying. It was almost like a curse, and sometimes it made her feel so terribly bitter, but she couldn't help being herself. She always found someone who would earn her loyalty, and, like a fool, she would hope that this time would be different only to be heartbroken again.

It had been her mother who had left her first. Deciding that her marriage was ruining her life and that having Hermione right out of school hadn't been such a good idea, she had packed up her bags and moved to Australia. Hermione visited her every summer, but it wasn't the same.

Then, there had been Harris and Ron. The two had been her best friends, and the first friends she had ever had. They had been adventurous and reckless, and Hermione had constantly worried and fretted because of them, but she wouldn't have given them up for anything.

But then Harris had disappeared, and no one had been able to find her. Hermione had brokenly sobbed her heart out when her sable-haired friend was declared dead. And Ron… Ron moved to Romania with his brother Charlie, the zoologist with an obsessive love for animals big and strong enough to kill him. They exchanged letters in the beginning, but it was just too painful. The Weasley family had never been that big or closely-knitted, but they had fallen apart in wake of Harris' death, and Hermione had been left to pick up the pieces of her heart by herself.

Of course, because she was Hermione, she hadn't been able to do that. Not alone. Sadly, the one who helped her would be the one to break her again, and she wouldn't even be able to say she hated him for it.

She had always been too loyal for her own good.

#

**December 21****st ****1999, the Grey Wind **

''And who are you, huh monsieur?''

He turned to look at whomever it was that was addressing him. He blinked a couple times when he saw the sweetest child he had ever seen in his life. A little girl, with silver hair and wide eyes. He smiled politely at her.

''I'm… Call me Moony. And you are?''

The girl tilted his head. ''I am Gabby. Moony is a weird name.''

''Yes.'' He felt his smile widen into something more natural despite his reservations. ''I suppose it is.'' He looked around. ''Where are your parents? Or family?''

''Oh.'' The girl deflated. ''I cannot find my sister.''

Remus worried his lip for a moment. He wanted to help, he truly did, but it could be dangerous, for him and for the girl. But then –

''I snuck on here, but then I couldn't find Fleur no matter where I searched, mais toute la nuit est fini déjà!''

Gabby looked near tears.

It took him a moment to translate her words, but once he understood what she had said Remus couldn't blame her for sniffling. She was a blind passenger, lost on a ship with nowhere to sleep, and she couldn't even find her sister. He had only one possible path to take.

''Don't worry, Gabby!'' He mussed up her hair and hid a smile at her outraged expression. ''I'll help you!''

And then he could pretend he had never met her in his life. It was dangerous, after all, and he didn't want a little girl getting hurt.

#

**December 22****nd ****1999, the Grey Wind**

Albus Dumbledore was a curious man. He wanted to know and understand the universe so fervently it was hard for others to comprehend it. But he also cared for his fellow man.

It was these particular urges combined that had him aboard the Grey Wind. There had been disturbing rumours floating through the gossip vine. Rumours that involved several important figures such as Prime Minister Malfoy, the shady organisation of terrorists Albus was rather certain was led by Tom Riddle and the stunning, newly built ship the press was going gaga over.

So of course he boarded the ship. The only problem was that Minerva had followed him, citing his inability to stay out of trouble. He hadn't wanted to let her come, but not even god could stop Minerva from getting things her way.

''What do you think, my dear?'' he asked of his pet parrot.

Fawkes chirped at him.

''Hmmm, yes, you are right. But perhaps we shouldn't worry Minerva so… Oh well, my dear, I know who to blame when our deputy decides to scalp us, don't I?''

Fawkes chirped, which may have been a protest, but Albus didn't burden himself with such worries.

''Yes, we should investigate. In that case, onwards.'' He popped a lemon sherbet and continued towards the lower deck where the lottery games were being held. There was no better place to hear gossip, after all, than where people old enough to get bored by their own business gathered.

#

**December 22****nd ****1999, the Grey Wind**

Bellatrix was never happier that when she didn't have to deal with her husband. Rodolphus was a foul creature, and she would never consider herself as his.

''Did you know, Yaxley, that when I was younger I had wanted to find love?''

She didn't really remember when she discarded that fantasy, but Rodolphus had surely had something to do with it. She wasn't a poor victim of his cruelty, and it she had never been forced into doing anything she hadn't wanted to do, but careless disregard and dismissal left their scars. After her imprisonment, she didn't give a damn about any such thing as love, but she recalled easily how desperately she had wanted a fairy tale in her youth.

Yaxley spluttered. ''Madam – I don't – why –''

Bellatrix scoffed. ''I was a stupid little girl. My Lord showed me… But I remember how I was. I still remember.''

Yaxley calmed down a bit when it became apparent that she wasn't in the mood for slaughter. Not yet, at least. ''Our experiences make us who we are, madam. It is not – you shouldn't feel –''

''I'm not ashamed, Yaxley.'' She snapped. ''I'm bitter and mad and a whole slew of other things, but I will never be ashamed of myself.''

''I wasn't trying to say that, madam. I was trying to say that your past deeds have shaped you into yourself, and that there is nothing wrong with personal growth over time.''

Such wisdom was wasted on her. She should have thrown a knife at him for even daring to say that to her. But she didn't. Bellatrix didn't really know why she was in such a sharing mood, but she concluded that she may as well have some fun on Yaxley's account. ''Did you know, Yaxley, that I cheated on Rodolphus once?''

''Madam!''

''Oh don't sound so scandalised, Yaxley. I did it and I'm not ashamed of it. But, for whatever reason, I do regret it.''

Yaxley kept quiet. Bellatrix's temper was flaring, and it was better not to be the one to incite her ire. Fortunately, he managed to evade her wrath. Unfortunately, this meant that someone else had not managed the same.

Ah well. As long as it wasn't him, he could care less.

#

**Interlude: Fenrir Greyback**

Fenrir was a monster. This was a fact he took pride in, a reputation he nurtured.

His employers, back in his glory days, never tried to leash him. He was known as the killer to call when you wanted to make a statement. He was also known for killing his employers if they annoyed him, too.

But the fact was, he wasn't a complete beast. There were things, twisted as they were, that could touch the dubiously existing spot others called his heart. One of these things was a child, newly orphaned by him, with the biggest pair of eyes Fenrir had ever seen.

It wasn't love he felt for the brat, surely not. Nor was it obsession or hate. It was more like duty, or responsibility, though what kind of duty an animal like him accepted was still not all clear. But Fenrir felt responsible for the kid, as it had been him who killed the brat's father, and so he kept an eye on little Remy. Just in case the brat got in over his head. Just in case he needed it.

But because he was a monster, Fenrir couldn't just accept responsibility for the kid with nothing in exchange. That wasn't how it worked. Fenrir's mind and vision of self rebelled against such a thing. Monsters do not care for children.

So he made a compromise with himself. Someday, when the kid wasn't a kid anymore, Fenrir would rip the brat apart with his own teeth. It would be his payment for looking over him all these years – and it had been over three decades since he first saw those big eyes that tugged at him – and the payment would be magnificent. He would bathe in the brat's blood. He would feast on his heart.

Still though. He was patient. He could wait. Wait until the kid wasn't a kid anymore, until he could sink his fangs into him without seeing those big eyes. And he would protect his prey until that day, because little Remy belonged to him and only him, and maybe…

Well. Even prey evolves over time. Fenrir wondered if little, big-eyed Remy would someday be more than just prey.

#

**December 23****rd ****1999, the Grey Wind**

Harry wasn't a complicated person. She cared about Cedric, Kingsley, and herself. That was about it.

''Did you know I had an owl once?'' she asked the girl next to her.

The girl with an unfortunately shaped nose rolled her eyes. ''No, I didn't. And I don't know you, Miss, so if you would…''

''I did. Her name was Hedwig. She was really pretty. Cedric bought her for me. But she died a while ago.''

''Great for you.''

Harry frowned. ''You're really mean, you know that?''

''Ah, forgive her, please. She doesn't know any better.''

The man was… breathtakingly handsome. Harry stared. He chuckled a bit, making her blush, and continued. ''Pansy here, was raised by wolves. There is no other explanation for her rudeness.''

Pansy looked ready to kill. ''Blaise…''

''Uwa!'' Harry clapped. ''You have such a pretty name!''

''Thank you,'' Blaise inclined his head, ''it's Italian.''

Harry considered it with a frown. ''I've never been to Italy! Maybe Ced and I should go sometime…''

''You'll love it there. It's very beautiful. Italy is the home of Dante, and Boccaccio, and Francesco Petrarca, and the food is –''

Pansy looked angry. ''We have to go, Blaise. I'm sorry, Miss Harry, but we need to leave. Goodbye.''

Harry was left staring at their retreating backs. ''What an odd girl…''

#

**December 24****th ****1999, the Grey Wind**

''Wow, they sure are beautiful together, aren't they?''

He turned his head to the woman next to him, and then to the dancing couple she was watching.

They were lovely together, fitting like two pieces of a puzzle. They were both tall and slender, elegant in the way not many people were nowadays. The man was scarred, but his ruined face did little to detract from his handsomeness, and the woman was silver haired and shimmering like moonlight. They seemed at peace with each other, both one with the world and cut off from it.

''Yes, they do have that glow about them. But then again, my dear, so do you.''

The woman blushed to the roots of her hair. ''Oh, I don't think so. It's just the season, you see. Christmas and everything.''

''Ah yes. Forgive me, my dear, but I don't think I've introduced myself. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, at your service.''

She startled. ''Oh, of course, how rude of me! I'm Tonks, pleased to meet you, sir.''

Albus regarded her carefully. She was slim and healthy-looking, but there was also something tired about her. Like she was starting to fold underneath her worries.

''Is something the matter, my dear? You look tired.''

She chuckled at this, and clutched her wine glass firmer. ''Well, I wouldn't want to bother you…''

''No, no, it's no bother. Why, beautiful young women like yourself shouldn't be alone on Christmas Eve.'' It was a cruel thing to say, and he knew it. He had still said it, though.

Her smile wobbled. ''Oh, well, my husband is missing, you see. I'm actually here because someone told me he would be here, on this ship, but I haven't found any trace of him at all. Maybe my mother was right about him…''

He could imagine what her mother thought of her husband. All parents thought their children above all others, and it took a great deal to consider someone worthy of marrying them.

He hummed thoughtfully. ''Do you believe what your mother told you?''

Tonks drained her glass in one go, like she could swallow her words along with the alcohol, but the speech came up anyway.

''He was never of the reliable sort, you know. A weakling, a coward. I didn't mind it, to be truthful I still don't, but I do resent it. But anyway. He was good to me. Made me happy. When we married I thought I would die from happiness. But it didn't turn out like that. He was with me for a month, and then he disappeared. I thought he was kidnapped, but there were no signs of struggle. His things were missing. For all intents and purposes, he had abandoned me. My mum told me to forget him, to get on with my life. But here I am, chasing after his shadow. Hoping against all hope that he had a reason to leave. Hoping to get him back. Stupid, huh? I never used to be a girl like this.''

Albus looked at her sadly. ''Every love changes you, my dear, and every hope twists you. But they don't have to bad changes.''

''Right.'' She snorted. ''But them, those two on the dance floor, they have a good life in front of them. I can see it. They won't be making any stupid mistakes any time soon.''

On the dance floor, the peaceful couple spun and swayed to the gentle music, making it look like all was right in the world.

#

**December 24****th ****1999, the Grey Wind**

Gabrielle didn't understand the man she was with. Monsieur Moony was so very weird. He kept peering around corners, jumping at loud sounds, mumbling to himself and tip-toeing around. Still, she supposed he wasn't all bad. He had a nice smile and he told her stories and he tied her shoes every time they got untied. So that was alright.

She focused on her game, humming a made-up tune under her breath. ''Up, up, down and down, follow through the halls and rooms, up, up, down and down, tumble up the ceiling walls…''

''What are you saying, Gabby?''

Monsieur Moony was looking at her with that funny look on his face, and she beamed up at him.

''I'm playing a game! You have to get up as high as you can, and then jump and land of your feet! It doesn't count if you fall. And then you have to do it somewhere else again, so that you don't end up going in circles.''

Monsieur Moony looked flummoxed. ''Ah, Gabby, maybe you shouldn't be playing games that can get you hurt…''

''But how am I to get better than Fleur if I don't practise?''

He sighed at that. It was all about getting better than Fleur with Gabby. If she was doing something odd and dangerous, chances were she was doing it in the name of training.

''You could try testing your balance.'' He offered. ''Maybe… if you could stand on your hands, you would get better balance.''

Probably. Remus didn't really know a thing about dancing, but walking on her hands would surely keep Gabby safer than jumping from chandeliers would. She grinned excitedly and went to do as he had suggested, while he thought some more.

It was Christmas Eve. Gabby didn't seem to notice, but Remus did. And while he couldn't get Gabby to her sister's, he could get her a nice evening.

''Hey Gabby, come over here.''

She flipped back to her feet with frankly ridiculous ease and meandered closer. She leaned over to look at the door he had pointed out for her, the one just barely visible around the corner.

''That is the pantry. It's where food is kept.'' He explained at her confused expression.

''Oh! Are we going to go in there?''

''Mm-hmmm.'' He grinned at her roguishly. ''Come on.''

It was so easy to pick the simple lock on the door. Clearly no one had thought anyone would try to steal food. He ushered Gabby inside quickly, setting her to sit on a barrel of lemons while he scoured the shelves for sweets.

''I want cake! Les gâteaux de fraises!'' she clapped her hands eagerly and shouted out several exclamations in French. Remus didn't bother to silence her because the Grey Wind's passengers were plenty loud and no one would discern Gabby's yells from those of everybody else.

He didn't find any strawberry cakes, but he did find chocolate and strawberries, and there were also readymade scones. It was a good way to celebrate Christmas, even if he did forget to get Gabby some knickknack as a gift.

#

**December 25****th ****1999, London**

''Sometimes, the new tooth grows in before the old one can fall out. The result is never pretty.''

''Sir…?''

''Do you know why we want change, Avery? It's because human nature demands it. We are animals, no matter our appearance, and our base instincts are eat, sleep, mate. But what makes us humans different is our unquenchable want for destruction of the well-trodden cycles of life. We need to eat: we become vegetarians and vegans. We need to sleep: we drink coffee and take pills to stay awake. We need to mate: we become sworn bachelors and take up the belt of chastity. Truly, it's as if we were made to break every rule set by god.''

He paused to savour the taste of his risotto.

''And the thing is… The rules we replace the previous ones with are ones that inherently ask for us to change them over and over again. We create slavery: we ban it and create freedom instead. We introduce the concept of abortion: we forbid it and make contraception. So, tell me, Avery, bearing what I told you in mind. Why do we only rebel and plan coup d'états and make revolutions?''

Avery blinked. His Lord was a philosopher with the habit of discussing sociology with his followers. He also liked to ask questions that would make lesser beings cry in pain.

''Because… You said it, my Lord. We are human.''

His Lord smiled. ''You misunderstood me, Avery. Why do we rebel on such a small scale? Why change the world? Why not change ourselves instead?''

A knock echoed through the room.

''Enter.''

''My Lord.'' The newcomer bowed his head in direction of the dining brunet and then turned to Avery. ''Commander Avery, sir. We have received word from Captains Rosier and LeStrange. The group under LeStrange's command is on board the Grey Wind, and are in prime position. Rosier sends word that The Minister has refused to cooperate. Shall I tell LeStrange to proceed with his orders?''

Avery turned his back on the man. ''My Lord?''

''Tell him to go on as instructed. Even if he fails, it matters little to us. We won't lose much if they get caught.''

''Yes, my Lord. I'll tell him.'' The door closed with a soft click, and Avery dutifully trained his attention on his Lord's gleaming red eyes.

''In regards to your previous question, my Lord. I am… unsure of the answer.''

''Oh? One of my elite Knights cannot think of an answer to such a silly question?'' Tom Marvolo Riddle lazily waved off the oncoming apologies. ''No matter. The answer is… We don't change, because if we did, we would no longer be human. We would transcend. We would become other. And that, you will find, is the greatest fear and taboo in the world.''

''My Lord…''

''Leave me, Avery. I have wish to be alone.''

He swirled the wine in his glass, not caring that Avery had left the room and didn't close the door completely.

''Of course, we could also stop changing completely. Wouldn't that be a change to remember?'' He murmured into the still air.

#

**December 25****th ****1999, the Grey Wind**

There was dancing all around. Fleur was on cloud nine at this, for surely there could be no greater pleasure than dancing with her husband.

Her husband, how those words excited her! She doubted there was anyone happier than her in the entire world. Even if her sister wasn't there… But she wouldn't think those thoughts now. She was with William.

''I love you.'' He whispered in her ear.

''I love you too.'' She returned his words, gently kissing his cheek.

He spun her faster, dipping her teasingly low. But she didn't startle. She wrapped her leg around his waist and pulled herself upright, laughing aloud at his groan when she playfully rolled her hips against his, pulling away before it could get any more inappropriate.

''Have you heard?'' she asked. ''Albus Dumbledore is here.''

''Is he now?''

Bill's eyes were smouldering and he was most certainly not talking about Albus Dumbledore.

She laughed breathily, not willing to give up the game yet. ''Yes. I have seen him.''

''And did you get an autograph?''

''No, I didn't. Perhaps you will get it for me?''

''Always.''

The orchestra went into crescendo and Fleur's loud laughter rang throughout the ballroom, unconcealed by the music. People turned and stared, smiling at the picture she and Bill made together and forgiving her for alarming them. It was all so easy when you were young and beautiful, Fleur thought in a corner of her mind, and she had always been the most beautiful of all.

''Have you bought me a gift?'' she asked happily. ''I have bought you one, and I'll be terribly disappointed if you've forgotten.''

''Wasn't that ring on your finger enough?'' William joked back, recognising the teasing lilt in her tone. ''You want more presents on top of that? You'll bleed me dry, Fleur, as if having you around hasn't been a constant drain on my savings.''

''It was not enough at all. I expect a nice gift, William, and another one for Gabrielle.''

Immediately the sweet, warm atmosphere dissipated, chased out by painful thoughts of the sister she left behind.

Bill bit his lip and pulled her closer. ''Fleur…''

''No, no, Bill.'' She shook her head. ''I'm sorry. I should not have – please forgive me.''

''There is nothing to forgive.'' He told her earnestly. ''We'll go back for her, Fleur. I promise. I swear it, Fleur.''

She offered him a teary smile and wrapped her arms around him. ''What have I done to deserve you?'' she asked herself, but still he heard.

''You didn't deserve me.'' He swayed her, much slower than before and more caring. ''You never had to deserve me, Fleur. I was the undeserving one.''

She closed her eyes and pretended she hadn't almost started crying at his proclamation. ''I love you. Je t'aime. Je t'adore. Please, believe me when I say it.''

''I know, I know. I love you too.'' And then, sighing softly, he spun her around again to the quiet music flowing around them. ''Merry Christmas, Fleur.''

#

**December 25****th ****1999, the Grey Wind**

Tracey spun in a circle, heedless of the actual rhythm of the music her companions were playing. ''Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle tun-tun-tun…'' she hummed semi-loudly. ''Oh what fun it is to ride in a tun-tun-tun-tun-tun…''

''You know,'' someone said from near her, ''I don't think that's how it goes.''

She turned around so fast she got a bit dizzy, and saw a handsome, black-skinned man looking far too amused for her tastes, and on her account no less.

''Aren't you supposed to be playing your violin?'' he asked, nodding towards her violin case, which she had put aside while she was on break.

''No,'' she answered frostily, ''I'm on a break.'' A quick look over identified him as a civilian, so she dismissed him completely. ''Now, if you'd please –''

His hand flashed faster than it should have and grabbed her arm.

''Come on,'' he teased, ''I was just playing with you. No hard feelings? Wonderful,'' he continued, as if she hadn't tried to kick him to get away, ''you can join me for a dance.''

''I don't –''

But the man was undeterred. ''A drink, then, if you can't dance.''

Why that – Tracey had half a mind to slit his throat right then and there. How dare he? She could dance just fine, she just didn't want his bumbling self trampling all over her toes.

''I'll have butterbeer, and the lady…'' he turned to look at her and smile charmingly. ''What do you drink?''

She glared at him. ''A glass of Firewhiskey.'' She ordered to the frightened bartender. ''And fill it to the brim.''

The man whistled. ''Hot damn, ma'am.'' He drawled. ''You'll drink either me or yourself under the table.''

Tracey smirked and mockingly raised her glass, letting the candlelight glint off the amber liquid, and them she gulped down half of it without even batting an eyelash. The man stared at her with wide eyes.

''I think I'm in love.'' He breathed, his gaze still transfixed on the glass.

Tracey was a bit surprised. The usual reaction was either contempt or envy, but never before had it been awe. And those words… She blushed mutedly and smacked her palm loudly against the counter, making the bartender jump and regard her warily from the corner of his eye.

''Don't say stupid things.'' She barked. ''And who are you anyway?''

He blinked one, twice, and then forced himself to answer. ''I'm Dean… and you?''

''Tracey.'' She introduced herself curtly.

Dean grew a wicked grin on his face. ''Well then, Tracey, how do you feel about a Christmas wedding?''

She shrieked, making heads turn to them, and barely stopped herself from throwing her drink at him. ''Absolutely not, you lecher!''

#

**December 25****th ****1999, the Grey Wind**

It was a tradition of theirs to do something spectacular for special occasions.

Once, they had set off fireworks from the top of Big Ben for the first day of summer, and on another occasion they'd played Beethoven's music on every radio channel in Britain for 24 hours because it had been Kingsley's birthday. Yet another time they'd caused a massive blackout in Manchester for the duration of the night as to honour the night they'd lost their memories.

For this Christmas, they had bigger things planned.

All the gifts and presents of all the guests aboard the ship were mixed up randomly, so that no one would get the present intended for them, but something else completely. It was an amazing idea, and a really funny way for people to meet and talk. They were forcing people to interact with strangers instead of just with the people they already knew.

They sequestered themselves away in the corner of the ballroom where the Christmas tree was, eagerly waiting for the bell to ring for the presents to be opened. Finally, it happened.

Harry was having second thoughts though. ''Hey, Cedric?'' she called quietly.

He grabbed her hand and sneaked her a look, unwilling to take away all of the attention he had on the tree. ''Yes, my Harry?''

''Do you think we're being mean?''

Cedric paused like he couldn't understand what she was saying. ''Of course not, my Harry!'' he burst out. ''This is a wonderful way for friends to meet, and there can be no greater friendship than the one that sprouted from laughter and mischief!''

Accepting this, Harry went back to watching what would happen. People were happily accepting the gifts with their names on them, not knowing that the names had been switched around, and started opening the presents.

There were mixed reactions. Some were gleefully laughing and seemed over the moon with their gifts, while others shouted in outrage or flushed with embarrassment. One man in particular was incredulously holding a frisky Christmas elf outfit that was clearly meant for a female, and, what was worse, for private, bedroom use. He seemed somewhere between horrified and afraid.

Yaxley, for his part, was wondering who was crazy enough to send him such a thing, and was already plotting their imminent demise. The pink-haired woman next to him was hugging a baseball bat to her chest, clearly ready to fight to the death for its possession. She looked at his own… gift, and chuckled.

''There seems to be a mix-up of some kind. I don't have anyone of this ship to send me gifts, but I still got this.'' She showed off her shiny new bat before cuddling it. ''But I'm not giving Bobbie up.'' She declared. ''She's mine now.''

''I'm murdering whoever caused this.'' Yaxley said calmly, flicking the flimsy outfit to the side. ''Eviscerating them.''

Cedric and Harry hugged and squealed happily. People were bonding!

#

**December 25****th ****1999, London**

/Merry Christmas, my love./

Lucius smiled. ''Merry Christmas to you, too, Cissa.''

/How do you feel? I know that fever of yours –/

''No, no.'' he interrupted her, knowing she would worry like crazy if he didn't. ''I'm feeling much better now. And you and Astoria?''

/We are well. We have met some interesting people, Lucius. A stunning young woman, a former dancer, and her husband. They were so very entertaining, my love. And some other young people, too. Astoria liked then rather much./

''I'm glad you're having fun, Cissa.'' He said softly. It was both odd and cruel, but he never loved her more than when she was far away from him. ''Draco misses you.''

/And how is my son?/

''Talking my ear off.'' He answered dryly. ''But truly, Cissa, I'll be glad to have you and Astoria back if it means he has someone else to speak to. I am a far too busy man to indulge him all the time as I have done these past few weeks.''

She giggled. /Draco always has been rather chatty. I have to go now, Lucius, Astoria sends her regards./

''Goodbye, Cissa.'' He told her and put the phone down.

''Do you regret sending her away?''

Lucius didn't lift his head, but he could tell that his Lord had an amused smile on his face. He clenched his fists. ''No, my Lord. Cissa made her choice.''

''Very well then, Lucius. You always have been a curious man.''

He nodded his head. ''Thank you, my Lord.''

''It wasn't a compliment.''

#

**Interlude: Harry and Cedric**

Harry was happy with her life, regardless of her circumstances.

People often pitied her when they found out she had amnesia, like she was somehow less for not having memories. They never seemed to understand that she didn't need those memories. She was person enough even without them.

Waking up with no memory was like waking up as a new-born, but knowing you were reborn, without all the habits and knowledge of an earlier life. Harry would sometimes get fuzzy thoughts and opinions that only made half-sense. She had a vague impression that she had been rash and reckless before, but also shy, introverted and with awfully low self-confidence.

She couldn't imagine ever being like that. She couldn't imagine herself as some wallflower, there physically, but always overlooked unless she drew attention to herself. She was wild and dynamic, kind and extroverted and adventurous. She was Cedric's partner. She was a pickpocket and a jack of all trades, but a good one. One that helped by stealing. She defined herself as a modern day Robin Hood, only she shared with Cedric instead of the poor.

If gaining her memory meant losing that, then she never wanted to remember. Harry was afraid of remembering, because she would cease to be herself as she was now, and wasn't that akin to death, just a little? She didn't want to die.

Cedric had desperately wanted to remember in the beginning. When they ran away – frightened by the crumbling, ruined graveyard – he had scoured newspapers and magazines and news reports whenever he could for any scrap of information. She hadn't understood him, and her own unwillingness to remember had made him resent her. They had argued a lot back then.

But then they had met Kingsley, who had taken care of them, kept them safe and taught them how not to be caught. He had told them there were bad men chasing after them, after her, and that it was for the best that they disappeared.

Cedric had been furious, breaking things and yelling and sobbing when the anger was gone and all that was left was loss, but… he had agreed to stop trying to remember. For her. She didn't know if anyone else had ever done that, but still it was Cedric whom she would follow to the ends of the earth now.

And when Kingsley left them like everyone always did, they didn't wallow in betrayal. They found hobbies to do, adventures to go on. The world was such a big place, and just because they didn't remember who they had once been didn't mean they couldn't make new memories. And they would do everything, at least once, so that no one could ever look down on them for their amnesia.

So now they played the fools. They acted like children with no attention span, played tricks and spouted nonsense. It made them more approachable, more likeable. And it wasn't as if it bothered them or hurt them in any way. They had each other, and that was enough.

#

**December 26****th ****1999, the Grey Wind**

Fenrir didn't have time for this shite. He didn't give a flying fuck about whatever it was old Rodo was trying to pull, and all he wanted was to get the hell off the damn ship. All the bloody swaying was making him sick. And as for dear Bella's psychotics, well, she could go fuck herself with her knives for how much he cared.

And this little chit, well, the little bitch had it coming. She'd been sassing him since she saw him. He slammed her against the wall. ''Tell me where the brat is!''

She wheezed. ''I… I don't… know!''

''You're lying, you flat-faced bitch. Now tell me!''

Her face was starting to turn purple. ''Please… I don't… know… I don't…''

''Hey! What do you think you're doing?!''

The intruder was tall and ostentatious, acting like he was twice his size.

He dropped the girl like a sack of potatoes. ''Useless.'' He growled and turned to deal with the brattling. The women who had come with the brat rushed to her, anxious shouts of ''Yurika!'' making their way past their lips.

The brat didn't even have time to react as Fenrir turned his attention on him.

''Tell me where Lupin is!'' he roared and drove his fist into the brat's stomach.

He felt nothing but disgust for this man, because the girl had lasted much longer than him, and had even still been able to talk. This one, though, was a puppy in comparison. He was peripherally aware of those women leading the girl – Yurika, was it? – away.

''Tell me!''

The man passed out. Fenrir spat on him, the gesture not helping him curb his temper at all, and looked around for more of Rodo's men. And… there they were. Travers, and probably Jugson if his memory served him.

''What is going on here? Nott?!'' Travers sounded furious, looking around for someone to blame that wasn't his superior's son. ''Greyback.'' He hissed when he finally caught sight of him.

''Hello, Travers.'' He offered a parody of a smile. ''Do you happen to know where Lupin is?''

Travers sounded disgusted. ''Lupin? I do not concern myself with –''

Greyback had his hand around the man's throat in an instant. ''Don't fuck with me, Toady.'' Travers looked apoplectic at the childhood nickname, but also terrified of his wickedly sharp, yellow nails. ''Lupin is here somewhere, and I'm going to find him. But you already know where he is, so you'll tell me and save me my valuable time.''

''We don't know where Lupin is!'' Jugson panicked. ''All we know is his wife –''

Fenrir snarled at the mention of Remy's wife. ''I don't give a damn about the pink-haired harlot. I want Lupin. Now.''

Jugson tried to argue. ''But she's here because she's looking for –''

A blow to the head knocked him out.

''And as for you,'' he bared his teeth at Travers, ''you'll go to Rodo and find me Lupin. Am I clear?''

Not bothering to hear Travers' answer, he tossed the man aside and sauntered off. He always felt better after he got to spill some blood.

#

**December 27****th ****1999, the Grey Wind**

''Well hello there. Can we ask – ''

'' – what a beautiful young lady is doing – ''

'' – all by herself?''

She startled.

There were two redheads grinning at her. Twin redheads, at that.

A smirk tugged at her lips. ''I'm sorry, you frightened me for a moment there. And you should take better care when flirting. I'm much older than you kiddies.''

The two looked offended.

''We weren't flirting! We were seducing.''

''Oh were you? Well, whatever you were doing, it was a blunder. I'm married.''

To further her agenda she wiggled her fingers and shown off the simple golden band there.

''Aw shucks.'' One of them pouted. She found it hilarious that even their clothes matched.

''Well, brother mine,'' his twin consoled, ''we could hardly be blamed for overlooking such a small thing when faced with such a vision.''

The first one perked up. ''Indeed, 'twas a glow, nay, a shine that blinded us to your wedding band, fair lady. May we offer to convince you to accept us despite your regrettable position?''

Tonks snorted. ''No, brat. Now off you go, leave me to get drunk in peace.''

They suddenly got very serious.

''We haven't actually come here to admire your looks, as perfect as they are. We came to remind you why you're on this ship. You'll never find him if you give up now.''

''What? How did you – No, were you – ''

''We're not the ones who told you about that in the first place. We just stumbled across this. But, whoever did clue you in on this particular location, you shouldn't trust them. He seems creepy. Like, eats little kids like us for breakfast kind of creepy.'' His brother hastily added at her confusion.

''Then what do you know about what I seek?'' she demanded.

''Nothing, really. As we said – ''

'' – we stumbled across this. The one who did tell you – ''

'' – got in a bit of a bind with some nasty looking fellows in black.''

''Right-o, I said from the start those musicians –''

'' – shouldn't be trusted, yes, brother, you did. Now focus.''

She was starting to get dizzy from their talking. ''Look, just tell me what you know!''

They stared at her for a moment solemnly.

''This big guy – tall, grey-haired, scarred, ugly-looking – he got in a spat with some of those orchestra. He beat one up black and blue, yes he did. Scared the shit out of the others. They said something about the Minister. Mentioned a bloke called Bumblebee, too.''

''No, no, brother. It was Dumbledore, not Bumblebee. Get your facts straight.''

''Wait,'' she interjected, ''You said Dumbledore. And about – ''

''Look. We aren't here because we know shit inside out. We're here because those guys looked dangerous and the ugly one mentioned a 'pink-haired trumpet'. You're the only one on this ship with pink hair. We just thought to warn you.''

''We'll be leaving now. We have our own plans, and helping beautiful maidens wasn't a part of them. We were just being chivalrous.''

They left and Tonks wondered, not for the first time, just what Remus had been involved with.

#

**December 28****th ****1999, the Grey Wind**

''Fucking bastard! Waltzing in here, demanding shit, like we're all his loyal dogs! I say, the next bloody time he comes, I'll rid him of his fucking teeth and then – ''

''Oh will you just shut your trap?!''

She closed her mouth and levelled a venomous glare at her husband.

''And you're a fucking pansy! What did you do, just stand there? And now that filthy mutt is going to cause trouble for us here!''

''Close your mouth and pray I don't rip your tongue out anyway.'' He hissed. ''We have better things to do than watch you nurse your wounded pride. You antagonised the bastard; he smacked you around a bit so you'd learn your lesson. Heavens know we all want to do that sometimes. Now fucking shut your fucking mouth and get on with the fucking work!''

The doors slammed behind him and Bellatrix let out a wordless scream of rage.

''You!'' The quivering Knight jumped at her sudden interest in him. ''When can we start this bloody show?''

He panicked. ''Urk. I mean, um, uh, we can start, hrgh, whenever…?''

''You telling me or asking me?''

''Um, asking you…?''

Bellatrix grinned. ''Good. Now.'' She looked at herself. ''I need to clean up. My Lord, forgive me…'' She whimpered.

''Uh, madam?''

''Yaxley!'' He startled. ''Find me a new dress and some knives. These are too blunt. We're going on a little pre-show adventure.''

#

**December 28****th ****1999, the Grey Wind**

Fenrir wasn't a fool. He knew that Remy could hide himself better than almost everybody, and he was, despite his blistering rage at being avoided, twistedly pleased at how skilled he was. So, due to this he knew he wouldn't be able to find the kid on his own. Which left him few options.

Option one: he could continue on as he had, beating up on Rodo's little toys and antagonising Bella. This was unacceptable because it would get him nowhere.

Option two: he scoured the ship inch by inch by himself, as he had intended to do at the beginning of the fucking journey. Also unacceptable, because the rolling of the waves made him sick and that course of action was tedious and boring.

And finally, option three: he followed the little bitch calling herself Remy's wife until she found her errant husband. This was the path most likely to succeed, and though his every instinct rebelled against it, he knew this would be what he would do.

Didn't mean he had to like it, though. Fenrir comforted himself with the thought of killing her once he didn't need her anymore. Well, the kid would get over it eventually.

With a growl that sent several passengers scrambling away, he went to find the woman.

#

**December 28****th ****1999, the Grey Wind**

''So how do we –''

''But you see, it's like –''

''– but then we can –''

''No, no. If you do it, then –''

''Argh! I don't understand!''

''Me neither…''

The two brothers looked at each other. They didn't really know what they were trying to do. This entire… thing, was supposed to be their last hurrah before they went back to normal life and going to University or getting jobs or whatever it was that was expected of them. It was time for them to become respectable citizens, and it was messing with their heads.

They had this one brilliant opportunity to rob people blind, and they were blowing it by not being able to decide what the actual fuck they wanted. Was it money? Jewellery? Embarrassing photos? They just couldn't decide.

''Maybe we could –''

''Stop.'' George snapped. ''Just… stop.''

''Georgie…''

''No, no, I can't do this. It's… I can't. This is…''

''I know, I know. Look, maybe we can –''

''I feel like… like I'm a stranger in my own skin.'' George mumbled into his hands. ''No, I mean yes, but… more. Like, like a guest in my own life, or, or something. I don't know.''

Fred nuzzled him. ''You have me. I'll tell who you are. My twin, my brother, my friend. My soulmate. We're family, Georgie, that's all that matters.''

George sighed. ''I, I suppose we should do it anyway.'' He smiled weakly. ''It's be stupid to come and do nothing, after all.''

''We don't have to, Forge.'' Fred immediately said. ''We don't –''

''No, we should do it. One last time.''

Fred bit his lip. He had a bad feeling about this. But… ''Alright,'' he agreed, ''one last time.''

#

**December 28****th ****1999, the Grey Wind**

Bill was pounding on the door to their cabin, but it remained stubbornly shut. Fleur had locked herself in some time ago, and was refusing to come out no matter how much he pleaded.

''Fleur, please, please open the door.''

''No.''

He thumped his head against the polished wood. ''Then will you at least tell me what is wrong?''

A pause. Just as he started to hope – ''No.''

''Dammit.'' He muttered to himself. With a sigh, he stood up. ''I'm going to get food.'' He told her, and, in a vain attempt to get her to answer, he asked, ''Is there anything you want?''

''No.''

''Alright then,'' he mumbled around a cigarette. He only ever smoked when he was distressed, and rarely had he got distressed enough to chain smoke since he met Fleur. But this situation asked for a cigarette, hands down.

His walk to the restaurant was, sadly, interrupted when he stumbled upon something he wanted absolutely nothing with. An old man, a crazy-eyed chick with knives, and a guy flattening himself against the wall, trying to melt into it to avoid attention.

Bill chewed on the end of his cigarette, almost swallowing it whole when he saw the woman throw herself at the old man. ''How is this my life…?''

Still, he wasn't an idiot and he didn't want to get caught up in something he clearly had no business with. He took the man's example and leaned against the wall, hidden behind the corner. He closed his eyes so as not to see anything, and pretended he wasn't there. Plausible deniability and all that jazz. If he got dragged to court, he wanted it to be for his own crimes and not someone else's.

But he couldn't help overhearing some things.

''Did you know my Lord thinks you his greatest rival, Dumbledore?''

''…Tom's goals…''

'No,' he scolded himself, 'bad Bill. Don't listen to them.' But curiosity killed the cat, as they say, and Bill found himself inadvertently spying on the three. Or, rather, the two, since the man was trying his best to become one with the walls.

''…old has-been? My dear… violence…''

Why couldn't the man talk any louder?

''When I kill you, Master will reward me above all other!'' the woman cackled. ''You death will ascend me!''

Okay, there were definitely some screws loose there. Still, none of it was Bill's problem, none whatsoever. He just needed to get to the restaurant to find some food.

''Your time has come, Dumbledore! You will –''

Bill scuffed the cigarette out on the floorboards, ''Oh damn it all to hell.''

He rounded the corner. He couldn't just let the old man croak and not do anything – Fleur would slaughter him. He rounded the corner –

A gunshot echoed.

#

**December 29****th ****1999, the Grey Wind**

The atmosphere in the restaurant was that of satisfied opulence, of luxury for the sake of luxury itself. It was also calm and quiet, and the golden decorations didn't seem at all out of place, or snobby.

Hermione felt a wide smile stretch her lips as she looked around. And then she saw something that almost made her feint. There, in the corner by the windows – was that Harry?

She walked slowly towards where she saw her best friend sitting, a man next to her. She looked happy, light, and Hermione thought she was more at ease than ever. She wondered how Harry had managed to survive.

''Harris?''

It was a tentative question, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was her friend. No one else had that distinctive scar on their heads.

But then – ''I'm sorry, do I know you?''

Harry was looking at her curiously, with such an innocent look in her eyes it honestly astounded Hermione. Harry had never been innocent.

''Harry, don't you know me? I'm Hermione. Your Hermione. Don't you remember?''

Both Harry and the man next to her stared at her blankly.

''Wait!'' the man suddenly burst, ''You know who we are? You knew us?''

''I… I knew Harry. Harry, you're my best friend. We – we're sisters, in all but blood. God Harry, I thought something had happened to you! That you were – dead, or worse. Wait. You don't remember me?''

She was incredulous. Did she lose her memories? If she did…

Harry looked terribly apologetic.

''I don't – Cedric and I, we don't remember anything. You said my name is Harris? I thought it was just Harry.''

Hermione wordlessly pulled herself a chair and drained the glass in front of Cedric. She had never been much of a drinker, but this was not a conversation she wanted to have while sober. Of course Harry would get herself into something like this. She had the worst luck. Of course, Hermione thought a bit hysterically, she would get amnesia and forget her entire life.

''You… Your name is Harris Lily Potter. You live on the outskirts of London. We met when we were eleven, at our boarding school in Scotland, and we became friends when you saved me from a rabid wolf that had found its way into the school. Cedric… You were pretty popular in our school.''

Harry and Cedric were pale with excitement, and Cedric reached to pull the green eyed girl in a hug, but then all hell broke loose. The orchestra, who had been softly playing violins 'til then, burst into a flurry of activity, pulling out knives and firing off bullets.

''Everybody down on the floor!'' The leader roared.

And then, as if the situation wasn't bad enough, the door slammed open and two men came in, dressed in bright pink robes and with rifles in their hands.

''Hands up where we can see them and don't move!''

The restaurant froze.

''Err, who do we listen?'' Cedric stage whispered.

#

**Interlude: the Grey Wind**

The Grey Wind was considered the best, most beautiful ship ever to be made, outshining even the Titanic. Because, well. The Titanic had sunk, while the Grey Wind wouldn't.

It was not a terrifyingly large ship, but it was big enough to carry some seven hundred passengers easily, along with all the help. Its design was antique, with lots of wood and gold and plenty of candles, so as to imitate the luxury of the Titanic.

Its first journey started in Dover, on the 20th, and ended in London on the 1st of January. An amazing journey for an amazing ship, they said.

But somehow it seems that all great ships have terribly bad luck, and the Grey Wind was no exception. It had attracted thieves, liars, murderers and terrorists. But its bad luck didn't take away any of its beauty, and in its later years would only add to its appeal. The chance to sail on a cursed ship, who would turn that down?

#

**December 29****th ****1999, the Grey Wind**

''Monsieur Moony, are you sure we should be doing this?''

He shot a grin at the child watching him dubiously. ''Of course we shouldn't be doing this, but, well. What other choice do we have if we want to avoid ship officers?''

Those white garbed men had been chasing around for them for a while now, and it was getting tedious to escape them. Gabby, of course, thought it all to be great fun, but Remus wanted to have some peace.

So alright, he didn't actually have to be entertaining his ward by showing her to the restricted access deck where only first class passengers were allowed, but she deserved to see what money could buy if one had enough of it. The guards wouldn't look for them there either exactly because it was restricted.

The lights used to illuminate the deck hung around like fairy lights, and Gabby looked like a fae herself, what with her hair and skin. She hung her feet from the railings, and giggled a bit to herself at the feeling of sea water splashing her bare skin. Remus saw it and was all for stopping it – what if something happened – but she was being careful, and as long as no one got seriously injured it was all just fine.

And anyway, they were being hunted by Greyback, which put their life expectancy at 'pretty short indeed'. He felt guilty for pulling her into his whole mess, but since the ship was full of dangerous, insane people, he thought he was probably the one most qualified for taking care of her. All he wanted to do was kill Greyback, after all.

''Hey, monsieur Moony. Do you think we'll find Fleur soon?''

No, he didn't think they'd find her sister soon. It was nigh impossible to find a single person on this ship without knowing where that person was, but he couldn't say that to her.

So – ''Yeah. We're getting closer.''

''Monsieur Moony?''

''What is it – Gabby! Get down, now!''

She was balancing herself on the railings, which were very thin and very hard to see in the dark. Gabby just giggled at him.

''Je suis une danseuse!'' She crowed. ''I have perfect balance! Better than Fleur's, even!''

''Yes, you told me. Now please, Gabby, get down from there. Please.''

''I don't want – Aaa!''

Remus snapped his eyes towards Gabby's scream. ''Bloody blooming Hell!''

It was Greyback. It was Greyback and he had Gabby who was crying and struggling and the assassin was staring at him – taunting him – playing with him as if he was bloody prey and – He wanted to murder the man, but this was not the time nor place and he didn't want Gabby to see that shameful side of him, but –

He snapped. ''No!''

He threw himself at the assassin. It was a stupid move, and he was probably going to die, but he had already failed his wife and he couldn't fail Gabby too. Greyback laughed and tossed Gabby to the side.

''Little Remy…'' He cooed. ''Little puppy… You've ran from me for a long time now… Aren't you tired of fucking running?'' His voice grew more gravelly and angry towards the end.

Yes. Yes, he was tired of running. But that didn't mean he would stop. This wasn't some great heroic battle, he wasn't finally standing up to his oppressor. He just wanted to stall long enough so he could take Gabby and run away again. He was no hero, after all.

A fist caught him on his shoulder, probably dislocating it. ''Bleeding – Hell!''

Before he could blink, Greyback was on him. Stars bloomed into existence as the older man pummelled away at his face.

''You should have – '' Slam. '' – stayed – '' Slam. '' – away while you had – '' Slam. Slam. '' – the fucking chance, you – '' Slam. '' – idiot child! Fuck!''

And then he was gone.

Remus stumbled to his feet, swaying more than just a little bit, and looked around frantically for Gabby. Instead, he saw a group of people attacking each other. The orchestra people, he realised, were doing their best to catch Greyback. He had no idea what Greyback had done to them, but considering what he knew of the man's personality, he could hazard a guess that Greyback had simply been himself. In most cases, that was more than enough.

''Monsieur Moony!''

He scrambled in the direction of the voice. ''Gabby!''

And there she was. She waved at him from the crowd of people gathered there to check out the commotion, and next to her, crumpled and messy from the fight, was…

''Remus John Lupin! How dare you just disappear on me!''

It was Dora. His pink-haired, former-police-officer, furious-looking wife. He trembled only just slightly.

''Dora…''

''Don't you 'Dora' me! You upped and left! And then I get a missive from someone calling themselves Padfoot, telling me you'll be on the Grey Wind, and to be here if I want to see you ever again!''

Remus startled. ''Padfoot?''

Dora just steamrolled over him. ''And now I find you breaking all the rules in place aboard the ship and getting the shit kicked out of you by the same monster my mentor spent years trying to lock up! You better have an explanation ready, you bastard!''

He looked around and noted many eyes on them. ''Let's just… get somewhere private.''

''Monsieur Moony!'' Gabby tugged on his coat. ''I hit a man so hard he fell asleep! It was that one!''

She triumphantly pointed out an unconscious Xavier Yaxley with a bloody nose for him, and he suddenly felt a dose of healthy respect for the waif-like girl.

''And her, Remus.'' Dora bit out. ''I want to know who she is. Because if she's your daughter I never knew about, I'll be telling this to both my mother and Mad-Eye.''

''Just… come on.''

#

**December 29****th ****1999, the Grey Wind**

She slid into the seat and eyed the men watching them carefully. They were dressed as orchestra members, but by now it was fairly obvious they were anything but. She chanced a look at the two women who had been taken captive alongside her.

''Hi.'' She pasted on a smile. ''My name is Hermione. Do you happen to know what's going on?''

''I'll tell you what's going on, chit.'' One of the men said suddenly. ''Your little boyfriend has an important daddy, and daddy hasn't been following orders. And so, we get to take you three bitches as blackmail.''

''My husband has done nothing!'' The Minister's wife screeched. ''You animals! You barbarians! My husband will – ''

The door slid open. ''Dear Lucius will do nothing, Cissy.''

The newcomer was a wild-eyed, curly-haired woman. Her pale face glowed with an inner light under the candlelight, and her skimpy dress rippled in the non-existent wind. The Minister's wife gasped.

''Bella!''

''Hello sister-dear. How have you been doing all these years? I can't say I've been too well; that pesky Azkaban business did put my life on hold a little!''

Hermione watched in fascinated horror as terror bloomed on Madam Malfoy's face.

''Bella, I – ''

''No!'' Bellatrix roared. ''Thirteen years, sister! Thirteen years! Not once did you come! Not once did you remember my existence! I waited; I stayed awake at night, toiling under the weight of my own fucking mind! And I imagined the face of my beloved baby sister, who would surely come to me, would surely fucking remember where I was!''

Madam Malfoy was sobbing hideously. The young brunette next to her put her arms around her to try to comfort her, and Hermione did her best to sink into the shadows. This was not a thing she wished to hear about.

''But never did I see your pretty face, sister! Never did you grace that fucking hole with your queenly presence! And now – ! Now, the time has come. I am free, and I will remain free. My Lord will build a world for me; a world where only those whose blood is pure can be. And you, sister, will be branded the traitor you are.''

Bellatrix was serene as she ended her speech. She swayed on her feet a bit, and then left with one final, smug smile in her sister's direction. The two men were clutching their guns with shaking fingers.

Hermione carefully wrapped her trembling fingers around her throat. ''Madam…'' Madam Malfoy looked at her with red-rimmed eyes. ''Madam, what is happening to us?''

''They're terrorists.'' The young brunette explained haltingly. ''They want to force the Parliament to step down. They want the Crown to gain all power in the government. They want… They're madmen. They don't even know what they want. And Mister Malfoy – ''

''My husband used to be one of them.'' Madam Malfoy's voice was hoarse. ''He, along with many others, most of them members of the peerage, wanted to force the government to absolve themselves. That way they would be able to just bully their way to power through blood connections. But, my husband saw reason. He realised he was being ridiculous. He left them. But they didn't leave him.''

''Yes. And now they're punishing him for it.'' The brunette smiled at her waveringly. ''I'm Astoria, though. Despite the circumstances, it is a pleasure to meet you. However, I must ask. What is your relationship with my fiancé?''

Hermione wiped her eyes of unshed tears. ''Draco, you mean? I don't suppose you went to Hogwarts?''

''No. I was home-schooled.''

''Well. Then. Draco and I honestly hated each other. He bullied me, constantly. But then my best friend went missing all of a sudden, and then he didn't treat me like he usually did. We became… friends, I suppose. No matter what these terrorists think, we were never more than that.''

She sneaked a look at the men from the corner of her eye to check their reaction to her words, but they could've been stone pillars for all the reactions they showed. Madam Malfoy and Astoria, on the other hand, were staring at her calculatingly.

''But you are in love with him.''

Hermione huffed a laugh. ''Yes, I do believe I am. But, I have known for some time now that he is engaged, and I am not the kind of woman who would break up such a relationship. I am no homewrecker. And… You look like you love him very much, too. I would not do something like that to anyone, let alone to someone who cares about Draco. Let alone to someone who cares about him the way I do.''

Astoria nodded her head slowly. ''I can understand that. I can respect it, too. But know this.'' Her blue eyes burned with determination. ''If you ever try to sink your teeth into my fiancé, I will end you.''

''Of course.'' Hermione smiled and offered her hand. ''Friends?''

Astoria accepted it. ''Friends.''

Madam Malfoy regarded them carefully. ''I hope there is place for me in this alliance?''

''Of course, Madam Malfoy!''

''In that case, call me Cissa.''

#

**December 30****th ****1999, the Grey Wind**

Dean was frantically carding his fingers through his hair. ''I have no idea what's going on with this ship, but I don't like it!''

''Calm down, Dean, you'll make yourself sick!''

Dean stopped his pacing and turned to stare at him incredulously. ''So far we've seen crazy orchestra people wielding knives, two freaks in pink who got beat up by said crazy orchestra people, a creepy old man snarled at us, I saw a little girl knock out one of the crazy orchestra people, and there are so many blood stains all over this freaking ship it's unbelievable! Don't tell me to calm down; I'll calm down when I'm dead! Which will be pretty soon if the goings on are to judge by!''

Neville sighed. ''Look. I know it's odd, and frightening. But the ship docks in London pretty soon, so we'll be free to go. And, well, it's not like anybody dangerous cares what happens with us personally, so we're pretty well off. I'd hate to be that curly-haired girl.''

''You mean the buck-toothed one?''

Neville was appropriately scandalised. ''Dean!''

''Sorry, sorry.'' Dean rubbed his forehead tiredly. ''I just want to go home. Eat some freaking steamed buns. Call Seamus and apologise. I don't even care about the fireworks anymore. I just… want to go home.''

''I know. I do, too. But…''

Dean lifted his head to stare at his friend at that. He knew that voice. He knew it oh so painfully well, and he hated it. ''Neville… No.''

''But Dean – ''

''No. We are not superheroes. Do I look like Spiderman to you?''

Neville flailed his arms a bit. ''Well, you're more like Aquaman – ''

''No. You are not doing this. I'm not letting you.''

Neville frowned at him beseechingly. ''But look at what they did to that girl. And they keep fighting all over the place! Someone could get seriously hurt!''

''Yes.'' Dean snapped impatiently at him. ''But that's none of our business. We're staying here, where it's nice and safe.''

His idiot friend just watched him in stony silence, guilt-tripping him. Dean huffed. ''Oh, alright. But we're coming back here at first sign of trouble.''

Neville just pulled him out the restaurant.

#

**December 30****th ****1999, the Grey Wind**

''We have lost the strength we once had, back then in the days of old, when we could move Heaven and Hell and at night still find our way back home.''

Tracey stared. ''What?''

''It's poetry, you illiterate moron.''

''I knew that!'' She defended herself. ''I meant, why are you bothering me with it now?''

He slammed the book closed. ''Because,'' he bit out, ''this is getting ridiculous. They're just two idiots, we should have caught them by now.''

It was Pansy who answered him. She looked at him with a bored-to-death look on her face. ''They're robbers. Commander said they've been pulling off high risk heists for years now. This is supposed to be their last job before retirement.''

Blaise uncrossed his legs and eyed the flickering lights above them. ''And how does the Commander know that?''

''Apparently, they sent postcards to the people they already stole from, with an invitation to come and watch.''

''Really?'' Tracey cut in incredulously. ''They actually did that and you're not just pulling my leg?''

''Ah, really. One of them even took them up on their offer.''

Blaise blinked lazily. ''She tears her eyes from flowers and looks at the world around, and the flowers and the world reveal themselves more simple every time.''

''Oh, stop it!'' Pansy hissed. ''It was Dumbledore, and we all know he's a crazy eccentric through and through. But… They are smart. Smarter than they look.''

''Yeah, as far as I remember, they managed to steal that pretty necklace from the British Museum.''

''Then they returned it to them, saying it was just a joke. They're morons, Tracey, stop admiring them.'' Pansy commanded.

''Who is admiring us?''

''Indeed, tell us who it is so we can – ''

'' – congratulate them on their good taste.''

The twins were grinning at them wildly from the end of the corridor, the wounds they received from Goyle Sr. still present. Pansy took one look at them and screeched.

''Get them!''

Blaise stretched out and passed her his book. ''Well, if I must.''

And then he flew.

The twins were good, very good. Better trained than him, even, but he was simply faster. No matter what they did or what they tried, he managed to evade their stronger attacks. Not to say his hits hurt them much nor that he was unscathed, but the fight was turning out to be one of stamina, and Blaise had more of it than they did.

''Bloody Hell, brat!'' Panted out one. ''You're good.''

''Thank you.'' He said, and swung his foot in the redhead's face.

He missed, but didn't let that deter him. The other twin laughed – a high, loud sound that echoed uncomfortably in the narrow space – and tried to punch his face in. Blaise avoided it, twisting himself to reach the first twin's injured side, before his other opponent could use it to get him from his blind spot.

His fist connected and the injured twin fell to the floor gasping, but his brother managed to throw himself at Blaise when he wasn't looking, and to knock him to the ground.

''Tracey!'' He shouted at the blonde.

He closed his eyes and so didn't see what the redhead had done – but when hot liquid spurted all over his face in a blinding flash of pain, complimented with another sharp ache in his leg, he wondered if he had failed the mission…

''You're good, brat.'' Came the voice of the redhead from above him. ''But you're not that good.''

''Au contraire, moron.'' Blaise smiled through the burning agony in his leg. ''I'm better.''

Before his assailant could react he reached up and grabbed his head, vaguely aware that Tracey had taken away the redhead's knife before he could do more damage to Blaise. Fingers sneaked around his throat from behind, belonging to the injured brother, but he didn't let go even when black spots began to appear. With a bit of pressure and a loud crack, the light went out in the redhead's eyes.

The bleeding twin roared like a dying animal. ''Fred! No, no, no… No!'' He threw himself at Blaise, but Pansy knocked him out with a sharp hit to the back of the neck.

Even if she was a cold-blooded bitch for not helping him out earlier, he was grateful.

''Good job, Blaise.'' She nodded at him.

Blaise rubbed his bruised throat and stared at the floor, trying to catch his breath. Now that the adrenaline and the high of battle were gone, he felt more than a bit empty. 'How poetic,' he thought as he watched Pansy order Tracey around and bully the skinny girl into dragging the unconscious man, 'for both brothers to be brought down by an injury to the neck.'

He wondered if he would end up like that one day, brought down by an inferior opponent who only fought because he had been ordered to, who didn't care at all about his dreams.

''And by God it must be the greatest form of rebellion; my fears all armed to the teeth, waiting for me to slay them.'' He whispered blankly to himself, wiping his face clean of the blood from his nose.

He got up and limped after his friends, leaving behind bloody footprints.

#

**Interlude: Fred and George Weasley**

Fred and George had been tricksters for as long as they could remember. Ever since they were born, they were playing tricks at their family and other around them.

But, that hadn't actually been what made them, them. It was their bond.

Now, that bond wasn't something they could explain in a way that would make it seem sensible and rational. They always came off as loonies when they tried to talk about it. Because, the only way to properly translate it to words was 'magic'. Their connection was magical in that that they could feel each other and sense the other's state, be it mental, physical or emotional. They couldn't say how they knew it, they just did. They often joked about it to others, but they considered themselves soulmates.

So, this made it so that it was always Fred-and-George, or if they wanted to be smart, Gred-and-Forge. It made so they finished each other's sentences, could understand each other with just a look or a touch, and recognise each other no matter the disguise. But, it had its limits.

Just because they could feel each other didn't mean they could always reach the other if they needed it. They couldn't break any laws of physics with it. They couldn't cheat nature. They still argued and disagreed and they weren't mind-readers or telepaths. The closest they could come to actually 'being magical' was creating optic illusions and playing mind tricks. And this worked, for the most part.

In all the jobs they took they always worked back to back. Their employers didn't complain because they did best when in close proximity, and the job got done. But what when one of them was gone? Dead? They hadn't ever even fathomed the idea of being separated, in fact, it had been absurd to even think it.

But now it was a horrible, horrible truth.

When you have shaped your entire life around your soulmate, when you have always been only one half of a whole, what do you do when you're suddenly all alone?

#

**December 31****st ****1999, the Grey Wind**

She was quietly sobbing, still trapped in that zone of between sleep and awake.

''Shh, shh. It's okay, we're okay.'' He rubbed little circles into her back.

She hiccupped a bit. Her fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt and she let him shush her like a baby. Harry laid her head on his shoulder and listened to the sound of his heartbeat.

''Are you better now?''

She slipped him a little smile. ''I'm fine, Ced.''

''What did you remember?'' His voice was worried and undeniably curious.

''Just… dark. But not a quiet dark. There was… It was like the dark was alive, like it was moving so fast it just appeared still. Like it was laughing and yelling and running. I don't know. I think you were there, but maybe I'm just imagining it. My arm hurt…''

''Huh. You remembered how you got your scar.''

She was silent for a moment. ''Yeah. I guess I did.''

Cedric hummed.

''Well, we're free now, so we'll be fine whether we remember or not. It's only this whole hostage thing getting to you.'' He grinned. ''Maybe we can try being kidnappers after this.''

Harry perked up. ''Yeah, and we'll kidnap all the mean people we find so the other people will be happier!''

''Psst!''

Both their heads snapped towards the sound. ''Huh?''

They couldn't see anything through the dark, just vaguely sense other sleeping bodies all around them.

''Come on, we'll get you out of here.'' The voice persisted.

Cedric got up and pulled Harry to her feet. ''Are you a ghost?''

''What? No! Now be quiet and walk, you'll alert the musician terrorists.''

They walked. It was hard, because they had to avoid stepping on the other passengers, all of whom were sleeping on the floor of the restaurant under the watch of a blond man with a machine gun.

''This is fun!'' Harry giggled quietly.

It was all going so well. But of course, all good things must come to an end. In their haste to get out of there and to find the voice, they woke up one of the guests.

''Whass'appening?'' The man slurred, and his voice, sudden and loud in the dark room, attracted the attention of the guard.

''Hey! You there!'' He shouted. ''What do you think you're doing?''

Before they could do anything, the guard decided the loss of a few hostages wouldn't be too crippling to their plan, and opened fire. Screams filled the air.

''Fucking bleeding Hell!'' The voice cursed.

The guard was still shouting.

Cedric dragged Harry towards the door as fast as he could, as she did her best to pull several of the panicking people with them. In the end, all she managed was a single, harried-looking woman.

''Run! Over here!'' The voice turned out to be a brunet man around the same age as Harry, and with him was his friend, a black-skinned, handsome man with sharp eyes.

They did as told. Several orchestra members chased after them, showering them with bullets. The woman yelped as one of them hit her, and she stumbled. Cedric bit back a curse when he got an exact taste of what she was feeling a second later.

''In here!'' The brunet pointed.

They tumbled out the door and found themselves on the deck, surrounded by rain. 'Good,' thought Harry, 'we can escape them more easily.' She and Cedric had already used the weather several times when they had to run away when their jobs went wrong. She could tell that her friend was recalling the same thing she was, and she quickly helped the stern-faced woman up to her feet.

They slid down the stairs and, with one final look in the direction of the men who had stopped their pursuit and were now cursing them out, entered one of the empty cabins. Harry slumped to the floor, and giggled a bit helplessly.

''So…'' She started.

The brunet man sighed. ''So…''

''I'm Dean.'' His friend introduced himself. ''This here is Neville. We're sorry for all the trouble.''

''Yes, indeed.'' The woman sniffed. ''Surely you can see what you did caused more problems than what it was worth?''

''We just wanted to help.'' Neville said quietly, and the woman's face softened. ''Would you let me bandage your wounds?'' He asked.

The woman nodded imperiously, and Cedric offered up his arm. It was a flesh wound and the bullet had only nicked him, but it still hurt. Neville wordlessly got to work.

Harry bounced. ''I'm Harry. This is Cedric. We're going to London to meet with our friends.''

Dean laughed. ''Yeah? Me too. Seamus is his name. We've been on bad terms for a while, but I'm hoping to fix that. Nev is here along for the ride.''

The woman pursed her lips. ''I am Minerva McGonagall. I'm here with Headmaster Dumbledore, who is here to meet with his… friends.''

Her eyes narrowed at the word 'friends', and Harry decided that she probably disapproved of the Headmaster's friends. She smiled a bit at the thought, before noticing that Minerva was watching her a tad too intensely for it to be simple curiosity.

''Harris… Potter?'' She asked.

Harry gasped. ''You know me? Do you know Cedric, too?''

The woman nodded slowly. ''Mister Diggory. Yes, indeed I know you. From your question I assume you don't know me?''

Cedric cut in excitedly. ''No, we don't remember anything! We know our names just because we had them on our clothes when we woke up! Does this mean you can tell us about us?''

''Yeah! We met a girl who said she was my best friend, Hermione, but the orchestra took her before she could say much! Tell us! Please, please, pretty please?''

Minerva looked slightly disturbed at Harry's childishness. ''You were both my students. I am a professor at Hogwarts School for the Exceptional, which you both attended. You were seventh and fourth year students, respectively, when you went missing during an interschool competition. It was a scandal, but the Ministry kept it quiet to prevent unneeded tensions between France, Britain and Bulgaria.'' She looked faintly ill at what she was saying. ''Many were sent out to search for you, but there were no traces left. What have you children been doing all this time? It's been years.''

''We woke up in a graveyard, hurt and dirty and with no idea about anything.'' Harry shrugged. ''We talked, and decided to just… go and do stuff together. We had a lot of fun.''

''Remembering things was never really much of a priority.'' For once, Cedric's voice was gentle and lacking his usual exuberance. ''What little we did remember was enough for us not to want to recall anything at all. We had each other, we were free, and it was enough. It still is enough.''

''Man, um, not to cut this short, but… There's someone coming this way, and we might want to get away now.''

They shot a look at Dean's sheepish face, and scrambled to get away from a cackling black-haired woman with knives in her hands.

#

**Interlude: Dean and Neville**

Dean wasn't a bigshot like Neville. His friend was a member of the peerage, of the silk-stocking crowd. He, on the other hand, was mostly living off prayers. Still, it wasn't anything to be bitter over. They were friends regardless of their social status, and Dean would be damned before he gave up Neville's friendship.

It hadn't always been just the two of them. Seamus was their friend once, too. The Irish fire-cracker was like a brother to them, and he bridged over the gap between them. In fact, it had been Seamus who had introduced a sheltered noble to the piss-poor artist. The world had been their oyster in the beginning.

But as they grew older their differences grew bigger, until they could hardly understand each other when they met up. Neville didn't understand what it was like to struggle to pay rent, Dean had no idea what Seamus was going through with his terminally ill mother, and neither of them got how he could give up his education to paint canvases no one bought. They were teenagers then, and they dealt with those differences by splitting up.

It had been a year and a half since that, and they had all matured over that time. Dean was successful now, his art respected by many. Neville had involved himself with charity work and could now see where his friends had been coming from when they refused his offer to give them money. Seamus was engaged, with an up and coming business. They could rebuild their bridges.

It had been Dean's idea to meet up on New Year's Eve. Starting off the year as friends seemed cheesy, but they had all agreed. Seamus wanted them to meet Lavender. They hadn't known what they were in for when they boarded the Grey Wind.

#

**December 31****st ****1999, the Grey Wind**

Nymphadora Tonks was fuming. There were no words to describe just how righteously angry she was. But she could try. If she were to depict her fury to some stranger, she would say that it burned through her like fire, filling her up 'til she felt she would burst, making her lightheaded and heady, like drugs.

''Tell it to me again.'' She commanded. ''Pretend I'm a moron and know nothing about anything.''

Remus, that idiot man, winced. ''Well, I would rather not.''

''Remus.'' Her voice was wintry and sharp.

He ran his hand through his hair and conceded defeat. ''Well, it all started with my father. He attracted the attention of a very dangerous man, and then had the grace to agitate him. Fenrir Greyback, then not a very well-known hitman, was sent to teach him a lesson. When he couldn't find my father, only finding my mother and me, Greyback thought he would… play a little. He left me a scar to remember him by. He never forgot me after that, coming by when the mood struck him, 'looking after' me.''

Tonks' anger mellowed out at that. What could she say, she was a goner when it came to tortured souls. Remus avoided her eyes and continued.

''I met my best friends when I was eleven. They were… different. Nobles, brats who had never gone hungry a day in their lives, let alone been targeted by terrorists. But they were good. There was a fourth boy with us, not a noble, but not a slums kid like me, either. Upper-middle class, his family. The four of us were the best of friends. We called ourselves brothers. Became blood-brothers over so much of James' father's scotch Sirius had to be taken to a hospital.'' He smiled faintly. ''Those were the good times.'' He trailed off.

''Monsieur Moony?'' Gabby piped up. ''What happened then?'' she asked when the story didn't move fast enough for her tastes. Remus mussed up her short hair.

''What next? A plot twist, of course. The terrorists calling themselves the Knights of Walpurgis appeared, and when my friends found out that my father had been killed by them, they wanted to lock them up. Follow through with justice. They – no, we – were idiots. Young, stupid. So stupid. James married. Lily was a nice girl, Dora, you would have liked her. They had a daughter. And because James, along with Sirius, had made it onto the Knights' kill list, they targeted them. Lily was killed in a house fire, after their location was given up by Peter.''

''Bastards.'' Tonks hissed.

Gabby was wide-eyed with wonder, and Remus felt a bit offended. This was his life story, not some random, cheap Harlequin novel. But she was just a child, so he went on with the tale.

''The thing is, we all thought Sirius had been the one to betray them. A noble, a disowned heir, brilliant with motorcycles and with a fascination for guns. The happy-go-lucky, run-with-the-Devil type. The bad boy. He fit the profile so much better than poor little Peter ever did. Peter was average in everything, always overlooked in favour of one us. But, anyway. So, James and Lily were dead, Sirius went to Azkaban, Peter went into hiding, and I… All I had left was a target on my back and a heap of cheapened memories. I didn't even know what happened to James' little girl until she turned eleven and started her schooling.''

Tonks was quiet for a short time. ''And me, Remus? What about me? Our marriage? Where do I fit in with your adventurous life?''

''You…'' Remus sighed. ''You're my wife. I never meant to marry, you see, and I didn't truly know what to do when I fell in love with you. I worried for you, about you. If Greyback ever found you… But I didn't want to lie to you and divorce you, so I thought it would be best just to disappear one day. It happens all the time, after all, people disappearing on the street, from their jobs. I just… wanted you to be safe.''

''Well you went about it the wrong way. How can I ever trust you again after this, Remus? I love you, don't get me wrong, I am on this damn ship for you, but to trust you? How do I know you won't leave and be gone when I wake up one day again?'' She shook her head slowly, her voice cracking. ''I was police, Remus. I can take care of myself. I know of Fenrir Greyback very well. Hell, my mentor had a special place for the crazy bastard in his shrivelled up, little black heart. If you had just trusted me…''

Remus shrugged and the couple stared at each other helplessly. What ifs wouldn't help them at all. What now? There were no more secrets to keep, no more lies to tell. It was all out in the open now. What now?

''Fleur!'' Gabby screeched suddenly, almost falling off the deck with how energetically she had leaned over the railings. ''Fleur! Regardez-moi! Fleur!''

But she was yelling for nothing. No answer came, and Tonks was quick to shut her up before she attracted the attention of the orchestra. The girl struggled in her grasp, but Tonks was far stronger than her.

''Be quiet.'' She told her, and released the little blonde.

The girl immediately threw herself at Remus, seeking comfort. ''You promised, monsieur Moony, you promised.'' She cried into his stomach, but they all knew he wouldn't let her run off in search of her sister.

He shot a look at his wife, who was regarding the child with far too much distaste for him to be really comfortable with.

Tonks gave him a blank smile and started patting at her pockets. ''I'll call Mad-Eye. He'll know what to do. He'll wait for us in London. And in the meantime…'' Remus nodded encouragingly. ''In the meantime, just, give me some space.'' She looked pained, but Remus understood. It hurt, but he understood.

Gabby continued on clinging to him and sniffling every now and then. Remus didn't think she liked Dora very much.

#

**December 31****st ****1999, London**

Dawlish frowned at the messages sent to them by the people aboard the newly built and long expected ship, poetically named the Grey Wind. The messages were… odd, to say the least. Some of them were babbling on about thieves, others hysterically mentioning murderous musicians, and others still going on about the ship being haunted by a werewolf of all things.

''What the Hell is happening on that ship?'' He murmured to himself.

The messages had been coming in on the 29th for about two and a half hours, and then they stopped completely. But all tries to verify them had been for naught. Then, suddenly, a call came from the ship, reciting some damn poem and threatening the lives of Madam Malfoy and Lady Greengrass. It was baffling, and it had all of his superiors running around like headless chickens, and breathing down his neck.

Dawlish rubbed his temples wearily, wishing that Kingsley was there. Kingsley liked this kind of work. He liked having responsibility, liked making decisions, liked moving up the ranks. Dawlish just wanted to do well by innocent people, ambition be damned.

He tried to ignore the rising voices filtering through his office door, but it was getting harder and harder. Was that Proudfoot? And yes, that was definitely Savage yelling. Dawlish would recognise those dulcet tones anywhere.

Finally, he had enough. He strode out of his chair and jerked the door open. ''Oi, what the Hell is going on here?!''

Silence. He took a moment to let the scene settle. There were Proudfoot and Savage, there was poor Dunbar, looking afraid and tearful – he should really try to keep her away from the men, she was far too gentle for them – and there was Mad-Eye.

Why me? He internally wailed. But then again, Mad-Eye was by far the best police officer in London, retired or not, and he was famous for understanding the minds of criminals. If Mad-Eye was here it meant he wanted in on a case, and currently there was only one case that would interest Mad-Eye. The Grey Wind mystery.

''Dawlish!'' The scarred man growled, his faulty glass eye rolling nauseatingly in its socket. ''Get Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum away from me before I snap their necks. We have work to do.''

Dawlish mutely sent the two fuming men away to their stations, and opened his office door for Mad-Eye.

''So…'' He started once Mad-Eye was seated and had declined a cup of tea. ''You have business with me?''

''Don't be an idiot, boy. I have no business with you. I have business with those bleeding hearts that let a monster like LeStrange go free a decade ago. I have business with the marionettes that fired me. With you, I have information to share.''

That one name was more than enough for Dawlish to understand the gravity of the situation. After all, Mad-Eye would mention LeStrange for nothing.

Under Mad-Eye's narrowed gaze, Dawlish took this revelation in with shaking hands. LeStrange. He was a… complete and utter psychopath, a sadist with a hobby of skinning his unfortunate victims and a man so charismatic and with such powerful connections he literally got away with murder. With several murders and two different massacres, actually. The only ones who could rival him were his late brother Rabastan and the assassin Greyback, and worse than him could only be his wife. If he was on the Grey Wind, that would explain some of the reports.

He steeled himself. ''What do you know?''

''My protégée is on that ship.'' Mad-Eye said dangerously. ''She called me. She only had enough time to tell me both LeStrange and Greyback are there before she hung up on me.''

''The calls we've been getting say there were more than just them.'' Dawlish hummed, forcibly keeping himself calm. ''I would say the Young Lions are there as well, and the rumours of the Curse Breaker retiring might not be just rumours after all. The cameras in Devon have sighted Miss Delacour, and if she's there then he is not far. Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall are also confirmed to be on that ship. And of course we all know of Madam Malfoy and Lady Greengrass' unfortunate situation.''

''How many men do you have to spare?''

Dawlish smirked slowly, smug and pleased. The only good thing about the whole Grey Wind debacle was that no one was trying to cut his budget anymore, and for the first time in years he wasn't understaffed. ''There's over fifty of them under my command currently. And I can spare just under forty of them.''

''The ship docks here tomorrow.'' Mad-Eye seemed darkly gleeful. ''We have another shot at LeStrange, and Tonks can take care of herself for another twenty-four hours. Less than that.'' He said after checking the clock.

''And Greyback?''

''You leave Greyback to me, Dawlish. I have some unfinished business with him.''

#

**Interlude: Bill and Fleur**

When Fleur called Bill her everything, she wasn't joking.

She was an illegal immigrant from France, who hadn't finished her formal education, with a little sister to raise and no job to speak of. Before Bill found them, she had thought they would die of hunger in the streets.

But Bill had taken them in, fed them and clothed them. He taught her English and made her his personal assistant. He even got them papers.

Bill was, technically, an archaeologist. Off the record, he was a tomb robber who specialised in breaking into pyramids and sniffing out ancient gold, willing to work for favours instead of money. His reputation as someone who had never fallen victim of any of the curses the Egyptians were so fond of had earned him the nickname 'Curse Breaker'.

Fleur had met him when she was seventeen, and now, six years later, she was proud to call herself his wife. And as for Gabrielle… Her sister was still in a little village near Dover, waiting for them to return from their honeymoon. Fleur knew she shouldn't feel so guilty about leaving her behind, but when one considered the fact that, deep down, she knew Gabby would be safer if they left her there and never came back for her, it was possible to understand her guilt. Bill had plenty of enemies thanks to his job.

And now… now, she had another person to worry about. Telling Bill made her irrationally afraid, but she was pregnant. She had no idea when it had happened, but it was undoubtable that the test came back positive. She would tell Bill soon.

But only after they got off the ship.

#

**December 31****st ****1999, the Grey Wind**

''So, you would say he is a coward?''

''Oh naturally. I don't think I have ever seen anyone run away from the horses as fast as he did.''

Astoria laughed. ''Well, the Malfoys no longer keep horses. I would think it a normal reaction to beasts as big as horses, if not for the fact that they were foals you were studying with.''

''My son never did have a touch for animals, I'm afraid.'' Narcissa joined in. ''My family kept many beasts and I grew up around horses. I was always saddened Draco didn't like them. Lucius doesn't much care for animals either, I'm afraid, but for me he bought a pack of dogs. I go hunting with the Ladies Bones and Zabini when the weather is right.''

Hermione smiled at the light conversation. It had taken them two days to become truly comfortable with each other, but now she could honestly claim the two women as her friends. The recounting of the tale from her and Draco's third year, when they had started their riding lessons, was proving to be good for their budding friendship. What had once been a terrible precursor to arguments between Draco and her and Harris was now an amusing story to tell. It was… nice.

''And he screamed like a child, you said?'' Astoria leaned forward, eyes bright with eagerness.

Hermione nodded her head. ''Like a girl. No child would scream like that, but a girl would. A little girl, at that.''

They giggled at that, while Narcissa smirked regally.

''And you would still love him, though he is a coward?'' Astoria asked curiously. ''Did you not go to the House of the Brave?''

Hermione smiled. ''Courage isn't the only virtue worth having. Draco is intelligent, courteous to the ones he likes, caring of his family and his loyalty, once rightfully earned, is unshakeable. He can be cruel, vicious, petty and childish, but so can everyone. He isn't perfect, but he is my friend.''

''But he is still mine.'' Astoria reminded.

Hermione nodded her head in understanding.

Then the harsh rapport of gunshots started cracking through the air. Their guards cursed roughly and rose to their feet. Snapping a quick order for them not to move 'til he got back, he left the cabin. The three women looked at each other.

''Do you think someone got hurt?'' Astoria asked hesitantly.

Narcissa scoffed at her naïveté. ''Of course they did. With monsters like my sister on the loose, prowling these halls, bloodshed is inevitable.''

''But, if the guards are gone…'' Hermione looked torn. ''Does that mean we can leave?''

Madam Malfoy cut that from the root. ''No.''

Astoria compared them to each other for a moment, both stubborn and strong, and she wondered wistfully if she would ever be like that. To be able to stand firm on her own two feet was her dream. She watched as Hermione subsided, seeing the foolishness of trying to escape.

''It's alright,'' she murmured fondly at them. ''We'll be freed soon. I can feel it.''

#

**December 31****st ****1999, the Grey Wind**

Blaise had always been a bit odd.

As a child, it had been adorable when he quoted poetry. They called him precocious and his mother called him her greatest treasure. But when he turned eleven and started school, and was still spouting poetry wherever he went, it was no longer sweet. It was weird and annoying, and no one wanted to be friends with him.

It hadn't bothered him. He didn't need friends, he could just manipulate people instead. But his mother fretted and fussed, smoothing back his hair and asking if he wanted to transfer to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. He always assured her he didn't care about such fickle things as friendships, and he meant it.

But in his seventh year, the oddest thing happened. Someone decided to be friends with him. Of course, it hadn't been that simple. Because that someone was a girl he had thought that they wanted to seduce him and use him.

It took the entire year and another seven months spent working together with them for their Lord until he grudgingly admitted defeat and fell into an easy friendship. Easy because they, the two girls or, rather, young women, didn't demand anything from him, and neither did they expect anything. They just asked for his cynical presence and bothersome obsession with poetry. It was… surprisingly acceptable.

And now, after everything they had seen him do as their Lord's favourite junior assassin – and the list was gruesome and extensive – they still kept him with them. Just for that, they had his loyalty more than their Lord ever would.

He gazed at the listless redhead slumped on the ground. The man looked dead, and Blaise would have worried over the state of his prisoner had the man's wounds not been cleaned and bandaged. As it was, he was pale and breathing shallowly, staring at the floor but not really seeing it.

''What follows after pain is either hope or hate.'' He told the man conversationally. ''But hate is a heavy burden to bear.''

''And you would know my pain, wouldn't you?'' the redhead sneered, mustering the strength to lift his eyes and convey a thousand things, none of them good. ''Murderer.''

Blaise remained impassive, refusing to show his grim amusement at the title he could claim as his own. ''I know what I am.'' He said shortly. ''There are few who know their true nature, and I am one of them. You, I believe, are not.''

Before the man could answer, Pansy came back. Trickling in after her were Lily, Hestia and Flora. All the women were dressed smartly, and while other men would have taken offence at working with only females, Blaise didn't mind. He was an assassin, and they were all in a similar field as he was. Working with information, poison and deceit, they were girls after his own heart.

''Tracey went to report.'' Pansy told him swiftly, and he nodded in response. Turning to wave her hand at the redhead, she continued. ''They're busy right now and can't interrogate him, so we're in charge for now.''

Blaise smiled widely at the man, blinking slowly. So he was given free entertainment, was he? How unexpectedly nice of his superiors.

Pansy, though, caught the look instantly. ''He's not for you, Blaise.'' She snapped. ''He's for the intelligence now. You stay out of it unless asked. Am I clear?''

Blaise rolled his eyes. ''Of course, Pansy. Upon my heart, I swear it in iron.''

It was a testament to the years they had spent in each other's company that she didn't even bat an eyelash at the words.

''Can he talk?'' asked Hestia bluntly, ignoring completely Blaise and Pansy's conversation.

Her twin sister was at the redhead's side in a flash, the man's startled yelp more than answer enough. Flora didn't back off though, in fact, she even leaned closer to him. ''His eyes are red.'' She declared.

Lily rolled her eyes. ''His brother is dead, of course his eyes are red. Who are you anyway, Fred or George?'' she asked indifferently.

The man snarled at her. ''None of your business.''

Lily let her hair fall and cover her eyes. ''Hmmm… I suppose it doesn't really matter.''

''Bitch.''

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, it wasn't the man who said this. It was Hestia Carrow who had hissed out the insult, taking her sister's hand in her own.

''If we ever hear you say something like that again,'' Flora continued harshly, ''we'll make sure no one finds your body.''

Blaise leaned back and enjoyed the show.

Flora and Hestia were twins, orphaned ones, and they were all they had to each other. They regarded almost everyone else as on intruder or an enemy, and though they no longer had to worry about being separated by the Social Services, the very thought of losing each other made them ruthlessly angry and afraid. Lily had, with her callous comment, all but spat on the connection the twins had.

The man stared at them with an unreadable look on his face.

''So,'' Pansy said casually, ''what do we do now?''

The door clicked. ''I know!'' Tracey cooed, finally back from giving her report. ''Tell us about the heists you did!''

#

**Interlude: Albus and Minerva**

It wasn't hard for Minerva McGonagall to believe her employer would be hunted by terrorists. His eccentric personality hid strict morals and an even stricter idea of what was 'for the Greater Good'. She wasn't blind to his faults; she knew he was a meddlesome old goat who didn't know what was polite and what wasn't. So no, his enemies and his murky connections to various criminal organisations in the world didn't surprise her at all.

But she also knew he was noble and generous, brave and kind, and that he was probably the most compassionate man alive. She knew he cared for children above all else, that everything he had done had always been for the benefit of children and young ones.

She had always thought she would be there when he died. That he would be lying on his deathbed, all pale and still like, and she would be crying about all the paperwork she'd have to deal with in his absence. He would smile that twinkling smile of his and offer her a lemon sherbet, which she would naturally decline, and he would then drift off to sleep. His hand would slip from hers soon after, and she would know he had died painlessly and peacefully. That there had been no unpleasant rushing or being late for his Next Great Adventure.

She had never imagined that he might be killed, and that she'd only find out about it days later.

Albus Dumbledore just never seemed the type. Well, shows how well she'd known him. The old coot had the audacity to drop dead while she wasn't there to take care of the mess he had doubtlessly left behind.

Well. Minerva could save face. Hogwarts was hers now, and she could deal. She was a lady, after all. And with no Albus bloody Dumbledore there to distract her from her work, she would do everything even more smoothly than she usually did. Right?

Right.

#

**January 1****st ****2000, London**

Within hours, London was crawling with police.

The death of Albus Dumbledore had caused a civilian uproar the likes of which had not been seen in England in decades. The thought of the humanitarian, pseudo-philosopher, astrophysicist, ground-breaking chemist and the Nobel Prize for peace winner being dead shook up the world to its core.

In later years his death would be called the beginning of the new millennia, one that most everyone thought would be more pitiful than the previous one, and they took it as a sign that humanity as a whole was becoming more and more deprived. Why else, they said, would a man such as Albus Dumbledore be killed in a petty squabble, over something as lowly and disgusting as money?

As such, the streets were overflowing with mourners and protesters. People were rioting, demanding the government and the Queen gave honour to the brilliant man by fixing their world and ridding their country of corruption. The Police, originally there to deal with the terrorists they now tentatively called 'the Knights of Walpurgis', were now delegated to controlling the protesters and stopping them from setting things on fire.

Dawlish and Moody wore grim looks as they waited for the Grey Wind. The fact that it was the first day of the New Year was bad enough, but now the rioting? If they lost the Knights in these kinds of crowds they would need a miracle to find them again.

They weren't stupid, they knew why Dumbledore had been killed. It wasn't over money like most of the world thought, it was over safety. The Knights had wanted to create chaos they could get lost in, and the best way to do it was by using death. And to accomplish their mission at the same time as getting rid of the thorn in their side called Albus was so very pleasing. They had killed two birds with one stone by eliminating Dumbledore.

#

**January 1****st ****2000, London**

Tracey slipped unnoticed by a pair of cops.

She didn't want to get arrested. She had done horrible things, but while she regretted those actions her regret didn't extend to prison as a penance. She didn't want to be another Bellatrix. So she stuffed her hair under a hat and slouched as she walked past the officers, catching sight of them interrogating a familiar figure.

There was something sad about seeing Dean again and pretending not to have noticed him. The man was… he would have been good for her. He was funny, charming, and law-abiding. But she couldn't say the same for herself. She would have ruined him. So it was for the best that she ignored him. Maybe in a few years she could come find him again. But until then…

''Oh, Miss, I'm so sorry. Here, let me –''

She didn't take the hand offered to her and pulled herself up instead. The man who had run into her looked worried, but she had better things to do than play polite with a stranger who had been clumsy enough to knock her to the ground. She shouldered past him, not hearing his surprised exclamation.

With one last look in the Police officers' direction, Tracey disappeared into the crowd.

Neville was a bit shocked at the young woman's rudeness, but he supposed he understood. Everyone was glad to be off that accursed ship, and he couldn't blame her for wanting to go to her home as soon as possible. He went to Dean's side with hurried steps.

''…and then we heard these gunshots, and before we knew it, those orchestra freaks were all over the ship. I thought – oh, Nev, thank god. Look, sirs, I'm sorry, but I've got to go find someone, he'll tell you – I really have to go, sorry, bye.''

Dean clapped him on the shoulder and went off in search of… someone, and so Neville took over answering the cops. He wondered who it was Dean was looking for…

#

**January 1****st ****2000, London**

Harry and Ced didn't stick around long enough to be questioned. They had places to be and people to see, and London wasn't one of those places.

Harry rubbed her chin thoughtfully as they gathered their things. ''Hey, Ced?''

''Hmmm, Harry?'' Cedric looked a bit preoccupied with their, or mostly her, bags.

''Do you think we should go find Miss Hermione?''

He stopped confusedly. ''Who?''

''Hermione, the girl who knew us.'' Harry explained. ''Or maybe professor McGonagall.'' She added.

''Well…'' Cedric looked at her with earnest blue eyes. ''Do you want to?''

Did she want to? Yes. No. Maybe. She didn't know. But it felt a tad cruel to Miss Hermione to vanish on her just after she had found them. She had seemed so happy to see them.

''I don't know.'' She said, a bit lost. ''I mean, our memories, but… aren't we supposed to go visit the Terrible Two?''

Well, now Cedric could understand her confusion. ''Yes… Well, we could go visit our friends, and then later we can go see Miss Hermione. I'm sure she won't mind waiting for a bit.'' Pleased with his solution, he decidedly nodded his head and then hefted up their bags.

Harry didn't even notice him struggling with her wardrobe. ''Yeah, you're right.'' She said sunnily. ''You're so smart, Ced!''

''Thank you, my Harry!'' he grunted. ''Now, off we go!''

''Yes, off we go!''

#

**January 1****st ****2000, London**

Hermione felt her newly found freedom almost intoxicating. She stood by Astoria and Cissa, excitedly waiting to finally see Draco.

''Calm down,'' giggled Astoria, ''you'll make yourself sick.''

Next to her, Cissa nodded in acquiescence and hummed in approval when Hermione stopped vibrating.

''I'm just so excited.'' She haltingly explained. ''I can't wait to see –''

''Cissa, my dear.'' It was the Prime Minister who appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The blond man clasped Cissa's hands and kissed her cheeks, and then carefully embraced Astoria. ''And you too, Astoria. I'm glad you are well. And… who is this?''

Hermione couldn't help but to notice the faint sheen of disgust that had coloured his voice when he spoke of her.

Astoria, though, either hadn't noticed or didn't care. ''Mr Malfoy, this a friend of Draco's, and I'm happy to call her my and Cissa's friend also. This is Hermione.''

Mr Malfoy shook hands with her, a far cry from the kisses his wife and Astoria got, but in this case she couldn't blame him for it. ''Pleased to meet you, Hermione. Might you be the Hermione Draco hasn't stopped talking about?''

She smiled carefully. ''I should be thrilled to be so gladly welcomed, Mr Malfoy.''

''Yes, I should think so.'' His grey eyes scanned her quickly, and the he returned to lavishing attention to Cissa. ''My dear, you should go on, Draco is waiting for you at the gates. He should be overjoyed at you return. And yours too, Astoria. I'll be right behind you.''

The two women waved to her, Astoria promising to send her a letter soon, and then they were gone.

Mr Malfoy immediately lost his warm smile. ''I don't know what you are aiming for, but I assure you Draco's marriage to Miss Greengrass is not falling through.''

''I'm not here to hurt them so! Astoria is my friend!''

He didn't seem too impressed by her scandalised expression. ''Yes, your friend. Here, take this, and leave Draco alone.''

Hermione looked down in her hands and saw… money. She felt nauseated. As if she could be bribed into abandoning and losing contact with her friends! ''Mr Malfoy,'' she angrily began, ''I'm not –''

But he merely scoffed and pushed another wad of it at her, striding away so no one would catch sight of him with her. Hermione stared at the money furiously, wanting to throw it away, but unwilling to waste resources. He bit back tears.

Well, Astoria did say she would write to her, didn't she? All was not lost.

#

**January 1****st ****2000, London **

When Minerva stepped on the streets of London, she didn't whether to laugh or cry. Activists, ecologists, feminists, all kinds of people were there, with heavy signs above their heads bearing the name of Albus Dumbledore. Wasn't it just so, so ironic that Albus' death was cause for civil unrest, when he had spent his entire life putting all that unrest to an end?

Still, it was a lovely gesture if nothing else. And maybe the world would get changed for the better, just a little.

''Here, this way, madam.''

The woman the Police sent with her to escort her safely had to be the oddest Police officer Minerva had seen in her life. Her pink hair and studded clothes made her look more like one of Hogwarts' students than a grown woman.

''Thank you,'' she said primly and allowed the woman lead her through the alleyways. ''I'm sorry, but I've forgotten your name, Miss…''

''Tonks, call me Tonks.'' The woman smiled at her brightly. ''I'm not really a cop anymore, you know.'' She continued casually. ''I gave up my badge when I got married. Maybe I'll apply again.'' She added.

''Hmmm. Or, if you want a job, you could come to Hogwarts as security.'' Minerva offered. She didn't want to pry into Miss Tonks' life, but a bit of concern never hurt anybody, and besides, the Police wouldn't have sent her with someone untrustworthy. ''It isn't a demanding job, and it pays well.''

Miss Tonks grinned at her, this time more honestly. ''I'll think about it, madam.''

Minerva nodded her head and didn't ask any more questions.

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**January 1****st ****2000, London **

''Fleur, Fleur, Fleur!''

''Gabby, my Gabby!''

The two were holding each other so hard it looked almost painful. Bill didn't know whether to be worried or touched.

The Police had finally let him go, and they had, somehow, run into Gabby, who had apparently been aboard the ship the entire time, under the care of some random man who had told her to go to the cops and then disappeared. Fleur had been crying like a raincloud since.

Gabby was still going on about the man, talking about his funny name, or his weird habits of sneaking around, or how he saved her from falling overboard, or how they celebrated Christmas with strawberries, or… Well, there didn't seem to be an end to her litany.

Bill didn't mind it. He was still smoking, and he hadn't stopped since he got off the ship, but the two most important girls in his life didn't notice it. They were too overcome with their reunion. Well, it was alright.

Somehow, he couldn't wait to start his life as a civilian.

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**January 1****st ****2000, London **

Blaise hummed to himself quietly. The cops had taken him book of poems, but as he knew them by heart it didn't faze him much.

He knew what would happen to him now. A trial, and then prison. Possibly sharing a cellblock with Pansy, but he didn't have high hopes of that. It was far more likely that he'd be cellmates with Yaxley or Weasley.

Lolling his head to the side, he looked at the man whose name he had finally found out. George Weasley. With his brother Fred, he had been known as a 'Young Lion', a near legendary thief. Oh how the mighty have fallen. Still, the man didn't seem as dead as before. There was life in his eyes now.

''Are going to talk to me, or just stare at me?''

Blaise huffed a laugh. ''Well, you are so very pretty… but no. I was just looking into our future now.''

The redhead, George, smirked. ''You a seer now?''

Blaise smiled with his eyes closed. ''No, just observant. It doesn't take a genius to know that we're going to prison.''

''Have a little faith, mate.'' The man complained, and Blaise cracked one eye open to see his expression. ''It doesn't have to end like that.''

''Faith requires both courage and stupidity; I have neither.''

George snorted. ''Well, don't you think highly of yourself. Try to cheer up a little. I don't want a little twat to be my roommate.''

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**So, you may have noticed that some things are still unclear or unanswered, or even self-contradicting and unmentioned. This is on purpose, so that, if I ever want to, I can write a sequel. Unless/until the sequel is published, you're free to fill in the gaps as you like.**

**The official pairings are: Bill/Fleur, Lucius/Narcissa, Draco/Astoria and Remus/Tonks**

**You can read into some other relationships if you want, though. I won't mind.**


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